He's such a DICK!
by Slytherins Kick ASS
Summary: But damn, is he fine... Nice, smutty crackfic.
1. Oh Shit

All right y'all. I have to admit, there is a _little_ bit of OOC-ism on Harry's part. But! He _did_ kill Voldemort and all that, so wouldn't you be happier too? We tried our best to stay true to Malfoy's character, though, because there are so many fics that make him completely different from the books. Yeah! He's all nice and fluffy and wonderful to Harry and caring and kind and all that nice stuff! He's not a dick at all! He just has to act like one because daddy said so! Ha! Except not. He's a dick because he wants to be.

Co-authored by Anakin-Dancing (Kira dearest!)

This will be pretty damn smutty. We warn you now. However, we want to establish some semblance of a plot before the smut begins. Not.

If you're going to report us, please just don't. Seriously. Alaina (Slytherins kick ASS) will slap your face.

If you're a youngling… well… you found this for a reason and nothing we say will make you turn back, so… just… shut your eyes or something

Not HBP compliant.

THIS IS NOT FLUFF!

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ - Those represent hormone spikes and scene changes. Mostly scene changes, though.

Chapter 1- Oh Shit.

Harry jerked his Firebolt sharply to the left, bringing himself level with Malfoy. He could hear Seamus shouting over the roar of the wind in his ears. If he caught the Snitch now, Gryffindor would be tied with Ravenclaw in the running for the Cup. Christ, if this pale little beastie would just quit riding his ass, he would be able to get back in the running! Said beastie shoved the front of Harry's broomstick, sending him off course. "Fucking cheater! I'll set your bed on fire!" Harry yelled. "You whore!" Of course Malfoy couldn't hear him, but fuck it, you know?

Harry struggled to catch up to Malfoy, but he was too far behind. That cheating bitch was going to win! Well, technically pushing someone away wasn't cheating, but still. Harry trailed behind, bent low on his broomstick, praying with all his might that he'd be able to reach Malfoy before the game ended. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, a black ball of zooming death came out of the sun. The Pasty Ho Bitch didn't notice the Bludger. That is, until it pretty much obliterated his shoulder. Ha! Malfoy nearly fell of his broom, but managed to keep upright. However, this gave Harry enough time to streak past and snatch the Snitch out of the air.

He could hear Malfoy cursing behind him, but just barely. The stands were shuddering with the poundage of student's feet rushing down onto the field. The Slytherin team landed away from the crowds and trudged off to change - all except for Malfoy, who was being led off to the Hospital Wing to have his shoulder fixed. "Sucks to be you, Blondie!" He shouted.

Harry let the Snitch go and ran off to Ron, with whom he did a super-secret super-complicated twelve-step handshake which ended with them both freezing. Harry wouldn't move. Nope. Hell no. Ron _always_ won these, but not this time! Not this time! Then Harry was bowled over by Seamus tackling him.

"You dog! You DOG! I _knew_ you wouldn't let us down!"

_'Yeah, because tackling people is normal, Seamus!'_ Harry thought to himself. "Thanks, Seamus. I-"

"HA! Weasley wins again! I am the master of all that is frozen! Bow down!" Ron lifted his arms to the sky, and Harry, as was the rules of the Super-Secret Super-Complicated Twelve-Step Handshake, bowed down and praised all that was Ron.

"You are the master of all that is still! I am nothing compared to you! All I can ever hope is to live in your shadow and lick your boots, watching as you rule over all that is frozen!" Harry stayed on the ground until Ron allowed him to rise.

Now... to the common room. To PARTY ON.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Later that night (much later), Harry swayed his way down to the kitchens to get some more lime slices and cherries and salt and ice and glasses and everything else that they might need for the party like chocolate sauce or something and the like. He wondered to himself if he would remember this in the morning. Actually he wondered that out loud, but he didn't know that, did he? No. No, he didn't.

"Potter."

Harry spun around. "Hey, homie. Wassup?" He slurred at Malfoy.

Malfoy either didn't even blink or he blinked at being called 'homie;' Harry couldn't tell. He had lost his glasses somewhere. What a nerd. "What are you doing down here? Why aren't you up celebrating with your blood traitor pals?"

"Dude! What the hell!?! Don't say that!" Harry held up his hands with what he thought was an indignant look on his face. It looked more like he was scared shitless, but once again, he didn't know that. "One question at a time, man! Christ! What did you want to know?"

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "Why you're down in the dungeons instead of celebrating."

Harry looked at him. And looked. And looked. "I don't remember."

"Well go home."

Harry saw his opportunity and dropped to his knees, crying out, "I have no home! I am a tragic hero with no family! Pity meeeee!" His plea turned into a fake wail of despair as he sunk lower to the ground. Malfoy watched him like _'Wow... That makes total sense, of course,'_ until he stopped and stood up.

"AHA!" He yelled. Malfoy jumped at the sudden exclamation. "I came down for... what's it called... you know... on drinks... garnishings!"

"Garnishings." Harry nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world, forgetting that he only just remembered what 'garnishings' were. "Potter, I'm afraid that's not an adequate reason for being out of bed after hours. I'll have to give you a detention for this."

"What?!" Harry yelled, quite a bit too loudly. "But you're out late too! You get a detention too! You hooker! Streetwalker! Seed of the dev-ill!" He pointed his finger at Malfoy accusingly, but ruined the effect by stumbling to the side.

"Cease speaking, child!" Harry shut up. "I'm Head Boy. I can stay up however late I want, Potter. You _know_ that."

Harry by then had stopped caring. "Did you just call me child? Because... You're not that much older than me. I mean, I know that I'm still a youngling, but you are too. You can't deny it. I see the younglingness resting upon your features."

Malfoy almost smiled. Harry could tell. But it didn't happen. It never happened. "We're both adults, Potter, though only one has the poise and finesse to truly be called such. Go home."

Harry resisted the urge to break down for another 'tragic hero' moment at the mention of home, instead adopting a nostalgic look. "I remember the good ol' days, though. Don't you, Malfoy?" No answer. "You know, when we were jailbait. Hot jailbait, too. Dag, yo. (yeah it's supposed to be 'dag' not 'dang') The jailbaitin's the best part of being a youngling."

"Yeah, Potter, like you ever got any. You're vanilla as hell."

"What?!? I'm about as vanilla as chocolate ice cream!"

Malfoy smirked and stepped closer. "Nice."

"'S true! You can't talk, you pasty creature of the caves! I got girlies on all four corners of my state!"

Malfoy took another step, his hands behind his back. "I'm sure, Potter."

Harry, of course, didn't even realize that his little Blondie was drawing near. "You better be sure! I have like 50 bastard children! Read the books, Malfoy, read the books!"

"I think if you had 50 bastard children I would have heard about it, Potter. You're vanilla."

"Nuh-uh! I'm fucking chocolate!"

"Vanilla is used in the making of all ice cream, Potter."

"Then I'm sorbet!" Harry held his hands out, palm up, offering the truth of his declaration to Malfoy.

The git grabbed them and pulled Harry up to him. "Prove it."

"What?" Harry was still perplexed by how he was suddenly all close up with Malfoy. At least now he didn't have to balance on his own.

"Prove that you're not vanilla." Malfoy had a smug smile on his face - the sort of 'you-fell-right-into-my-evil-plan!' smug smile.

Harry saw this and narrowed his eyes. "You totally-"

He was cut off by Malfoy kissing him harshly. _'What the fuck? Who does he think he is?'_ The smaller man-child didn't even think twice about the fact that he was responding. _'Oh damn, where'd he learn that tongue thing? I've got to try that sometime!' _Harry noticed his Dream Team preparing for battle._ 'Well, the Dream Team always knows best.' _Harry took one arm from where it was around Malfoy's neck and snaked it down into the other boy's pants. He started stroking the blonde, and felt himself steered up against the cold stone wall. Malfoy's mouth moved from Harry's lips to his neck, and he bit down.

"Ow! You ho!" Harry squeezed Malfoy a little too hard at this, and the other boy hissed in pain.

Malfoy pulled away. "You're not going to get away with that. Get on your knees."

_'That was quick.' _Harry looked at him with wide eyes. "But I don't know how-"

"I don't care!" Harry wondered how Malfoy knew what he was going to say. "Learn! Get on your knees, Potter!"

Feeling his Dream Team get even more excited at Malfoy's commanding voice, Harry dropped to his knees and looked forward. _'Nice.'_ He thought to himself. Harry considered the sight for a while. Never in his life would he have believed this would happen, yet here he was. He licked lightly at the base for a while, and then traced his tongue up to the tip. Upon hearing Malfoy's impatient noise, he took the other's cock as far as he could into his mouth. Malfoy winced. "Fuck, Potter! No teeth!"

Harry tried to say 'sorry' around his mouthful, but all he came out with was "Fsaughway." Malfoy smacked him up the head.

"If I wanted to hear you talk, I would say so." Obediently, Harry kept at the job ahead of him. He dug the Dream Team out of his trousers and started to make them work. With his other hand, he stroked Malfoy's balls, running his thumb firmly up and down the space between the cock and balls.

The only sound Malfoy made was heavy breathing. Harry thought to himself (in fragments) that he'd always been the kind of guy who only said what needed to be said. No worries, though. Harry was vocal enough for the both of them.

Harry felt himself getting ready to come. He moaned at the tingles spreading their way slowly from his core. Malfoy hissed at the vibrations around his cock. Suddenly, the tingles shot out in every direction, setting his blood on fire and rolling his eyes back into his head. Harry practically screamed around Malfoy and felt a hand in his hair. He was being shoved fully around Malfoy's cock, and it was like thirty inches down his throat. He did his best not to gag, and tried swallowing instead. That was stupid. He'd only made it worse. Not only did he want to gag even more, but Malfoy yelled out and came down his throat and into his mouth. Harry choked and turned to the side to spit it out, but the fingers in his hair yanked his head back to stare into grey eyes. "Swallow it." Malfoy panted, one hand bracing him against the wall.

Harry obeyed. He was reminded of how when he was little he had thought babies came from eating baby pills. A cool, fresh sensation swept over his body as Malfoy muttered a cleaning spell.

He vaguely noticed the other boy putting himself away, as he was struggling to do the same to himself. Finally, he got the zipper up. He looked up into a blurred, spinning world to see Malfoy's face.

Malfoy looked him up and down (with a rather arrogant expression, Harry thought). "You taste like gin."

With that he left.

And then there was the gin. And the gin. And the gin. And he could smell it on himself now. And he could smell Malfoy on himself.

Harry stood, like a stallion on his haunches, and swooned.

Then, toppled over.

"I…I…I... need Ron."

He lifted up his head, the small classroom's stone floor seemed to stretch for miles, how would he ever find his way out? Once more, he was pressed against the floor, wondering how this came about.

"Ronnnnnn…." He yelled out, a beached pirate upon the sand.

And much to his surprise, there appeared the red head of rugged glory, "Ronn…."

Ron stopped short in the doorway, "Harry. Harry! How are you here? I was just coming by to see if I could-" He saw Harry's inability to walk, and his voice dropped to a more sympathetic and worried, "Harry."

"Ron. I had the most fantastic fantastic bloody wonderful thing." Harry garbled out.  
Ron held onto him, hoisted him up, a bit tipsy himself, and they had several false take-off's to the door.

Ron was telling something very excitedly to Harry. Something about, Hermione's hair, something about his brothers and a storm, Ron talked much to fast for Harry.  
Harry just wanted Malfoy, bed, and sleep.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Pain, splitting pain! Bloody crack in the head! Harry woke to a vicious headache. His body wasn't moving. He didn't know what the problem was.

"Wild time last night. This'll help, Harry." Some blasted brown haired twerp smacked him.

Groans came from a voice of his he'd quite forgotten, "Morning already?"

"And breakfast in five."

Ron lay in the bed near by and was a dead log of hangover.

Harry got up slowly, rubbed his hair about, grunted at the pain again, and went for the bathroom.

He shut the door as quietly as he possibly could; he turned the knob before it touched the door jam and everything. Silence was golden. Ah, sweet bliss. He started taking off yesterday's Quidditch robes when his eyes snapped up to the porcelain god. Apparently, his bladder was telling him that he hadn't pissed in about a year, so... it was about time.

"Shit!" He whispered and shuffled over to the toilet. He had to shuffle because his pants were down around his ankles.

If he had thought sweet bliss was silence, he was sorely mistaken! Harry was the most wonderfully happy person in the world at the moment. The hangover potion had nearly completed its magic; all that was left was a sore throat. He continued undressing with an empty bladder. But then, all was flipped upside down. The mirror. That Damn Fucking Mirror, as he would soon learn to call it.

"Well, young man, you certainly look like you had some fun last night!" Harry turned to the mirror and smiled tiredly.

"Do I really look that bad?" He asked.

"Oh, no, dear! You look fabulous! I was talking about your neck!" Then, of all things, the mirror giggled. _'Wow, I didn't know mirrors could laugh. Well I guess you learn something new every day.'_ Harry thought to himself. Then he realized what the mirror had said.

He lifted up his chin to get a better look, and there it was. A big ass hickey was resting on his neck like the mark of some sinister disease. Oh dear lord! Were those teeth marks? This thing looked more like a battle wound than a hickey! What the hell-

And it all came rushing back.

Swaying down the hall, being accosted by his Evil Blond Nemesis, the argument, making out with said Evil Blond Nemesis, then... then his little Dream Team Adventure. No wonder he had a sore throat.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOH MY GOD! OH DEAR LORD, WHAT DID I DO?!?"

At the sound of the scream Ron barged through the door, screaming as well. "HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRY STOP SCREAMING MY BRAIN IS ON FIRE!"

"Ron! Ron what have I done? I'm going to Hell, Ron! I'm going straight to Hell!"

Apparently Ron didn't care. "I don't care! Stop yelling! My head is about to explode!"

Harry lowered his voice to a conspirational whisper, looking around to make sure they were alone. Sure 'nuff, Seamus, Dean and Neville had gone down to brekkie. Thank you Lord.

"Ron," Harry whispered, "Ron, I'm going to hell. Do you realize what I did last night? Do you _realize_ the _gravity_ of this situation?"

Ron was holding his head and hobbling back to bed, apparently not listening to a word Harry was saying. His hangover potion must not have been as tip-top of quality as Harry's was. Too bad, so sad, sucks to be him.

"Ron, last night... Last night... Oh God I can't even say it!" Ron looked up at Harry like 'If you don't just get this over with I'll rip your uvula out.' At least, that's how Harry interpreted it. "Okay. Okay... Last night..." Harry took a deep breath. He could do this. "I gave Malfoy... a blowjob." He whispered as quietly as he could.

Ron looked at him more closely. "You gave him what?"

Harry mumbled.

"What? Harry, just tell me! Did you give him the map? What?"

Harry shook his head. "Worse."

"Well, _what did you give him?_ Christ, Harry! Just tell me so we can get it back!"

Harry shook his head again. "No! No, we can't get it back! I gave him a blowjob!"

Ron stared at him like he had announced his engagement to Snape. "Oh good God. No, you're joking. I don't believe you." He cracked a smile. "How do you come up with this shit? You sick freak! Oh God that's disgusting!"

Harry looked at Ron pleadingly. "No, Ron I'm telling the truth! I really did! I was so drunk and apparently I walked into a classroom instead of going down to the kitchens and Malfoy was out on his Head Boy patrol thing and then it just happened!"

"You mean you just walked up to him and dropped to your knees?" The corner of Ron's mouth twitched upwards.

Harry looked scandalized. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "No! We started arguing, but he wasn't really being mean or anything- he was calling me vanilla- and then he kissed me, then I started jacking him off, then he-"

Ron cut him off. "Wow! That's enough! I really don't need to know any more. So.. was _he_ drunk too? Because the Slytherins wouldn't really be celebrating..."

"No, he _wasn't_ drunk! That's the thing! He was totally sober and _he took advantage of me!_"

There was silence as the two Gryffindors went over this information. One staring out the window, horrified, the other with his eyes on the floor. Ron looked up first. "I think you should put some clothes on." Harry glanced down.

"Yeah, you're probably right... Oh shit, breakfast! Hermione is going to go all freak nerd on us!"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After hurried showers the boys raced down to breakfast, abysmally late. Hermione glared up at them from her paper. Harry could see her preparing for a speech, so he cut her off.

"Look, I know what you're going to say, Hermione. We need to eat breakfast so we can learn and being hung-over is no excuse for being late because we shouldn't be hung-over in the first place but _wait._ I have devastating news." Harry looked away from Hermione's worried face and turned to Ginny. "You should know too." Ginny had become kind of part of their group since she and Harry got together. Even after they broke up, the four still went out together and chillaxed with one another. Harry knew she wouldn't be all offended over the news. They had decided not to get back together after Harry killed Voldemort in the summer after sixth year. Which was a good idea, since by then Ginny had started going out with Neville. They were a surprisingly good couple, seeing all the times Ginny had turned him down. Maybe it was the Order of Merlin, First Class that changed her mind. Neville had been present at the final battle and was responsible for the capture of Lucius Malfoy, Nott and Avery. Sucks for them, right? Suddenly, Harry had one of those uncontrollable flashbacks that every hero needs to complete his character.

_FLASHBACK_

Harry stood over the smoldering remains of Lord Voldemort, silent. All fighting around him had ceased as Death Eaters and Aurors alike turned to see the demise of the darkest wizard ever to live. Harry turned and stared at those surrounding him.

"Fuck yeah, bitches! That's what I THOUGHT! That's what happens to you when Harry doesn't like you! You fucking EXPLODE! So don't piss Harry off, 'cause Harry'll blow you up!" Harry turned back to the area where Voldemort had last stood. "That's what you get for pissing Harry off and fucking with Harry's brain, you snakey bastard! You smelly, ugly freak! Who's the bitch now? Who's the most powerful wizard in the world? Harry FUCKING Potter, that's who!"

BACK TO THE REAL_ WORLD_

"Harry! Harry... HARRY!_"_

Harry jumped and turned back to Hermione. "Sorry, I had a flashback. What were we- oh yeah! Oh shit!"

The Woman of the Flame, as Harry liked to call her, finally spoke. "Harry! What did you want to tell us?"

Ron looked at her sympathetically. "He's going to take a while getting it out."

"Well, can't _you_ tell us then?"

The Man of the Flame shook his smoldering locks. "'Tis not my place, young sister."

Hermione, meanwhile, had been working on Harry. "Seriously, it can't be that bad. Did the Death Eaters do something? Did Hedwig die? _Did Crookshanks die?_ Oh my god Crookshanks died! Oh my god my cat is dead!"

"Hermione! This has nothing to do with Crookshanks or Headwig or the Death Eaters- oh god, Ron! What if he's working with the last Death Eaters and he's trying to kill me?"

Ron considered this for a moment then looked back at Harry. "Seriously, if he wanted to kill you I don't think he'd've had you... you know..."

Hermione was done with this. "Harry James Potter tell me right now what happened or so help me God I will shove this wand so far up your ass you'll be shitting slugs for a month!"

Needless to say, Harry was terrified. But that had also gotten the attention of several people nearby, who were now listening intently to the conversation. Harry looked around frantically at all the Gryffindors watching them and then his eyes were drawn to another table. There was Malfoy, watching him with the smuggest fucking smile on his face. Harry practically jumped out of his skin and gestured for his little group to follow him out of the Great Hall. But Hermione caught his glance and turned to see that smug creature for herself. She leaned into Harry.

"Did Malfoy do something to you?" She whispered as they left the hall.

"Oh my god you insane genius how do you know these things! Yes he did something to me! Look!" Harry pulled down his scarf (which looked rather odd there, seeing as it was May) and showed them the hickey.

Hermione was speechless, for once. Ron and Harry looked between the two girls, watching their reactions.

"That's hot." Ginny said.

"I know. I know. I know." Harry hyperventilated, his neck being on display in a freak-show museum.

Hermione was less than amazed, "Ew. Harry! You freak!" Her fists pounced upon him, beating his chest, until Ron pulled her off, grinning like mad at her little fit.

She breathed in; this was a big thing for her scholastic mind to handle. She would place the blame on someone else, "I am going to pour salt on that pasty dry worm of a snake until all his white hair falls out in the shower!!"

Ginny was still staring in awe at the beast-bite on Harry, wide-eyed. Not to say she wasn't a little jealous- it wasn't like she got much wild-fury action with flower-boy Neville.  
"Harry. Tell me it all. Did anything else happen?"

Harry gulped, noticing how sore he was yet again, and remembering how good Malfoy felt.

He took a large bite of a buttered roll, and tried to focus around Hermione's VERY LOUD fretting, "Well, I think the guys in GQ are quite beautiful."

Ginny stifled a giggle.

"I mean, really beautiful." Harry continued quietly.

"So you're gay." Ron leaned in suddenly, wide eyed.

"I think so." Harry felt nervous then so overjoyed at the thought that he was openly gay to his friends he imagined himself going into a gay pride parade and having sex with 14 men in honor of it! Suppress you're emotions, Harry, Suppress your emotions, he thought to himself.

"With M-a-l-f-o-y," Hermione asked, trying to hide her horror.

Ron answered, "No, that was just a mistake last night. The Bastard."

"Um... yeah, about that. Ron, you already know, but... alright. Ginny, something else actually did happen. I... umm... Ron, could you tell them?" Harry looked up at Ron, only to see a mean little smile on the Flaming Wonder's lips.

"No, Harry - I think it's character building stuff, to tell your friends things like this. Took you long enough to tell me, and you need to get used to it, you know?"

Harry looked pleadingly at Ron, trying to figure a way out of this unfortunate predicament. "But... well, yeah, it did take me a long time to tell you, but you weren't making it any easier! I don't do well under pressure! And why would I have to get used to it?"

Hermione apparently was a traitor to all that was just and right, so she joined Ron. "Harry, of course you do well under pressure, you exploded Voldemort, remember? And you'll have to get used to it because now that you're gay" Harry rolled his eyes. _Now__ that I'm gay. Because I just decided to switch this morning.' _"You'll be doing a lot of this. Hopefully."

Harry nobly chose to ignore that last little word, instead preparing himself for some spillin'. "Okay. Okay... Well, I... um..." He looked around just to make sure they were alone in the hall. He lowered his voice so much that they had to lean in and hear him. Ron did it, too, even though he knew what Harry was going to say. "Igavehimablowjob." He forced out. Ginny leaned back.

"Oh my god Harry, you get hotter every day! Fuck! I wish Neville would do something like that!"

Harry looked at her confusedly. "You wish Neville would suck someone off?"

Ginny nodded. She was just about to go on about how hot it would be to know her boyfriend liked guys too, and maybe she could get a threesome going, when they were oh so rudely interrupted.

Seamus galloped up to them. Just picture that. Lovely. "Neville sucked someone off? Who?" He whispered conspirationally.

Ginny looked rather uncomfortable, not to mention disappointed. "No... Nothing like that happened, it just sort of came up in conversation."

Seamus obviously didn't believe them. "I obviously don't believe you. I'm going to be watching you all for any slip-ups or something, I know your ways." He fixed the Wonder Team with as deadly a stare as he could muster. Which, contrary to popular belief, was actually pretty deadly. He made sure they all got sizeable doses of the stare before bidding them good day. "I bid you good day." With that he left.

Harry turned away from Seamus's retreating back to face the rest of the chillin's. He opened his mouth to comment on just how strangely awkward that had been when they were oh so rudely interrupted _yet again!_

"Hell, y'all crackas had bettah watch out fo' dat madness fucker. He's gonnna kill y'all if ya don' watch yo' backs. Otay buh-weet! Sorry, I forgot to mention that Neville Longbottom was the ultimate gangsta. Because he was, and that may very well be important to this tale.

Ginny smiled. "Hey, Neville, love. Let's go make some babies."

Neville tipped back his pimp hat and smacked her booty with his pimp cane. "Damn right, beeotch! Get dat fine little ass o' yours back ta bed. I'll slap ya around uh bit then ya can make me uh sandwich. Jus' like Orenthawl James. Okay, darling?" And off they went.

Now robbed of their prize honey they needed to look good, the three 7th years were at a loss. It had been so long since they were alone! Since they had literally nothing better to do, they went to class.

As he trotted off to Charms, Harry realized something horrid. Oh good Lord. They had this class with the Slytherins! What would he do when he saw Malfoy? He and Ron nipped into the classroom just as the bell rang. They took their seats in the furthest back corner they could, as was their tradition. Harry surreptitiously glanced around. There he was! Oh hell no. You know who he was sitting next to? _Do you know who he was sitting next to?!?_ Harry cleared his throat for the voice he was going to use in saying the name. He wasn't actually going to say it out loud, but the throat clearing needed to be done. But I digress. Pansy Parkinson.

_Pansy Parkinson._

Harry snorted in derision. Then he straightened up and blushed as Ron looked over at him questioningly. "Sorry." He said, as a way of explanation. He turned his attention back to Parkinson. She was so ugly! She was so gross! What did he see in her?!? Suddenly, Harry was struck by a tremendous thought. He scribbled down a note and folded it into a paper acorn woodpecker (WAY cooler than a paper crane,) set an untraceable charm on it just in case and told it to fly over to her.

Ron leaned in and whispered to him, "What did it say?"

Harry smiled as Parkinson gave an enraged squeal and whipped around. "You're not one to talk about looks, Potter! You ugly freak! Go to hell!"

Flitwick scurried over. "What's all this ruckus?" He squeaked.

Parkinson looked livid. "He sent me this note! I've never been more insulted in my life!"

Flitwick held out his hand. "Let me see the note."

Parkinson clutched it tighter into her pudgy hands. "No! It's... It's fine... Look, never mind. I can talk to him after class." She leaned over to Malfoy and whispered something. Harry knew what it was. She was too much of a weakling to confront him herself so she had to ask her _boyfriend_ to do it for her. What a pussy. Harry narrowed his eyes.

But, being the cunning and clever lad he was, Harry chose this moment to speak up. "Professor, I honestly don't know what she's going on about, but I will be perfectly happy to talk to her after class and get this all sorted out." He smiled smugly to Parkinson.

Flitwick looked satisfied. "I'm glad to see you two can talk out your problems, but I'll know if you start to make a commotion." He waddled away on his stubby little legs.

Parkinson huffed and turned to Malfoy, seeking reassurance on her looks. Malfoy, funnily enough, seemed a bit reluctant to give it.

Ron looked so excited now, Harry thought he might pee his pants. "Seriously, mate! What did you tell her?"

Harry's smile only widened as he dropped his voice. "Keep it down, remember? I told her that she's a fat wench and looks like she was dropped on her face when she was a baby." Ron roared in laughter and nearly fell off his chair. Harry just looked at him for a minute before saying, "Well, damn, man. It wasn't _that_ funny, was it?"

Ron looked up at Harry with tears in his eyes. He sighed and wiped them away. "Yes. Honestly it was." He collapsed into another little fit of chuckles. Harry would have called them giggles if they weren't so utterly and completely manly.

The bespectacled nerd turned back to his work only to find it covered by a folded piece of parchment. _'A crane, how unoriginal.'_ He unfolded it, ignoring it's flailings of pain as he dissected its body. The paper settled again once Harry had flattened it out again, and he could read the neat, small handwriting.

_Nice, Potter. Touché. I have to agree with you, unfortunately._

There was no signature, but really, who could have sent it but Malfoy? Nobody else in the class knew what the note said _or_ called him Potter. Except Parkinson, but… Come on. Harry showed the note to Ron, who looked just as surprised as Harry was.

Harry looked up to Malfoy, but the blonde's back was turned. He didn't know what to think. Did Malfoy think their relationship had changed after last night? He had obviously been sober, so he would remember it even better than Harry. Did they say anything? Did Harry say he wanted a relationship? Because he didn't.

Class ended and Harry checked his schedule. He had two free periods before Transfiguration, then lunch, and - damn it! Potions after lunch.

He and Ron packed up their shit and left. They were on their way back to the tower when Harry was hailed by a fellow pedestrian. That Blonde Beastie. Damn.

"Potter, I would like to talk to you about that little incident back in Charms." Malfoy said with a frighteningly mischievous smile on his pale features.

Harry turned to Ron, only to find an identical smile on the redhead's face. "I'll leave you two lovebirds alone." With that he walked away.

"You... you traitor!!! You Slytherin! Ron! No! No- ah fuck." Harry turned to Malfoy and gave him a look to say _'what the hell was that?'_ Malfoy smirked.

"Have fun!" Ron yelled over his shoulder.


	2. Spillin' and Chillin'

First of all, we would love to thank all of our glorious reviewers! You save us from a spiraling depression.

Also, sorry it took so long for us to add, Slytherins Kick ASS got her computer taken away because of grades. Sucks balls, right?

At long last, the second chapter has arrived!

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Have fun!" Ron yelled over his shoulder

Harry rolled his eyes. Shit, he really had to think about this predicament. How was he supposed to deal with Malfoy now? What was he supposed to do? After some serious internal debating, Harry decided to use that much-loved fallback of his, some good old fashioned bitchiness.

"What the hell do you want, Malfoy?"

Miraculously, that didn't seem to deter the other boy at all. He merely smirked and gestured silently for Harry to follow him. The silence between them was something Harry hadn't experienced before. It took him several minutes of serious staring-at-the-floor concentration to decide that no, it wasn't really awkward, seeing as Malfoy was pretty chill; it wasn't particularly peaceful, because Harry had _something_ in his shoe that was making it distinctively uncomfortable to walk; and it couldn't quite be tense because… well, Hell, it just wasn't . All this thinking was giving him a headache, so Harry, as dedicated to his health as he was, decided to concentrate on something simpler. He looked up.

_  
_Malfoy had led them to the History of Magic classroom. Harry knew (thanks to Hermione's incredible nerdiness and her equally incredible need to tell everyone she knew _about_ said nerdiness) that Professor Binns didn't have any more classes until lunch. Apparently, Malfoy was just as much a nerd as Hermione. Either that or he was just hella dumb, chillin' in a teacher's classroom just for kicks. The professors could get pretty damn possessive of their classrooms; in Harry's fourth year, they had had to beg McGonagall for weeks to let them use her classroom as a practice ring for the Triwizard Tournament.

Harry walked in and dropped his bag on the ground before turning to face Malfoy. The other closed and locked the door. The Gryffindor watched apprehensively as the other boy took out his wand and cast a rather strong silencing charm. Well damn and double damn. Harry took out his own wand. No, not that wand, pervs. You know the wand of which I speak.

"I'm serious, Malfoy, what do you want?"

"You." Malfoy said simply. Once again, a man of few words.

"Well _Hell,_ Malfoy. I guess that's too bad for you, because I don't go for perverts who take advantage of drunk people." Harry shot. He really didn't think he was handling this right, because Malfoy didn't seem offended at all. If anything, the Slytherin looked amused.

"You wouldn't have done anything had you not wanted it, Potter. We both know that. Quit fooling yourself." Harry had never seen the Slytherin look so smug.

"I was drunk! Inebriated! Intoxicated! Influenced! I had no idea what the hell I wanted!" Harry was getting kinda freaked out. Yeah, he was drunk, but sober enough to give a blowjob, so... He could have said no... right?

Maybe Malfoy didn't know what to say. Maybe he wanted to prove to Harry what he wanted. Maybe he was just a dick. It was probably that last one. Harry never got around to asking, because Malfoy just walked up to him, grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into the hottest kiss Harry had ever experienced. I mean really, really hot. Like moaning, ass-grabbing, hair pulling hot.

Of course, being a hormonal teenage boy, Harry's body reacted quite happily to the new situation. And we _all _know Harry was never one to do things half-way. He put the death grip on Malfoy's belt, pulling their bodies together. _'What the hell am I doing?!? This is Malfoy! I hate him! He's a __dick!_ Harry reached down and grabbed Malfoy's ass, bringing their bodies as close together as humanly possible. _'This is so wrong, this is soooo fucking wrong! Alright, push him away… __right now!_ Harry tried to push the blonde away, but his body wouldn't do anything. _'One more time, come on! __Now!_ Nope. Still didn't work. What really happened was poor, confused Harry ground himelf against the taller boy and moaned.

Malfoy licked Harry's battle wound of the previous night, and murmured into it. "Are you sure this isn't what you want?" He reached down and cupped Harry's erection. The black-haired boy let out a sort of half-growl, half-moan -1- as he was given a nice little squeeze. Now he was getting kind of irritated. Malfoy was just teasing him!

"Malfoy, you know this is wrong. We hate eachother!" Harry wondered if that was really the best reason he had. It was kind of hard to think clearly at the moment.

"Obviously not." Malfoy said into his neck. _'Hmm... that tingles quite nicely.'_ Harry thought to himself.

_Veeerrrryyyy nicely. _ He bit at Malfoys lip, then dove in again to the passionate kiss, letting his fingers wander and press into Malfoy, he ground against him.

Wait---something wasn't right.

Oh yeah. That's it.

Harry licked the palm of his hand and slipped it into Malfoy's snug black slacks. He relished in pulling on it, rubbing, all the while dominating the kiss, pushing against Malfoy. _Much better. _

Malfoy reached down Harry's pants and stroked his magical cock. The blond soon had the upper hand again and had Harry moaning and leaning up to him. Malfoy gave Harry a harsh shove and the Gryffindor was surprised to hit a hard, cold wall.  
Their cocks touched, bare and both erect. Their hands brushed against each other while stroking and it made them kiss electrically. Harry hoped this was a new feeling for Malfoy too. Both were over the top intoxicated with each other's cocks and rubbed them against eachother. _'This has to go on, I have to have more of this.'_ "Malfoy." Harry moaned, out of control and ready to come. He could feel Malfoy was just as close.

The Slytherin boy was still a foreign creature against him, but as he heard Malfoy let out a faint noise as he came, the sound of his little moan shot straight through Harry, coating Malfoy's fingers with his cum. They balanced, panting, against the wall, Harry surrounded by Malfoy's arms.

The blonde stiffened, did a quick spell to clean them both up, and Harry was at a loss for words.

Malfoy muttered a "Good Day, Potter."

And left the room.

Harry nearly knocked over a desk on the way out, and rushed off to Gryffindor Tower, his hair a rustle, his heart fluttering out of its cage, and making his lips tingle wildly, already wanting it again.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Running up the fourth staircase in a row, Harry slowed. Oh no.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Shit shit shit shit shit!

Shit!

SHIT!

What the HELL was wrong with him, gettin' all up in Malfoy's business like that?

SHIT!

Harry landed with a rather ungraceful _flump_ in his fourth favorite armchair in the Griffie commons. The best three were taken by his two favorite losers and a quiet, staring third-year boy who's girth brought back waves of Dudley-filled memories for Harry.

The dark-haired boy turned his attention to the losers, struck by a sudden thought. "What d'you reckon black-haired people are called? There're blonds, brunettes and redheads, but what do you call me?"

Hermione opened her mouth to spout out some useless, bookish nonsense, but Ron beat her to it. "Blackheads." He said with a small twitch of the mouth.

"Wow, thanks, Ron. Way to make me feel like a crap-filled hole in someone's face." Harry retorted.

"Well, actually, technically you're a brunette, Harry." Of course Hermione had to make Harry feel like a commoner. _Everyone_ was a brunette. He gave a resigned little sigh, and figured it was about time to get down to da bizz-e-ness.

"Okay. Well, thanks. But that's not quite what I wanted to talk to you losers about. Just now-"

Ron cut him off. "Yeah, what happened with Loverboy?"

Harry gave him a look. "I was just about to tell you." Ron shrugged. "Anyways, after you so _ruthlessly _and _disloyally _abandoned me with that sick freak," More shrugging, "he tied me up and dragged me, fighting valiantly, to a cleverly-disguised cavern hidden in the bowels of the castle. He threw me down on the floor and started berating me, but I, with my immense magical skill, unbound myself and leapt to my feet, crying, 'thou shalt torment me... _nevermore!_' And I totally slashed him down. They'll probably never find his body."

Harry sat back with smug accomplishment gracing his foxy features. His friends were looking at him with identical expressions incredulity, and that creepy third-year was staring at him with round eyes that rivaled Luna Lovegood's. Harry was briefly reminded of that chick from X-Men that could change into anyone she wanted.

Wonder Boy (or Wonder Bread as Angelina Johnson had always liked to call him) gazed from one friend to the other, his eyes occasionally flickering back to X-Boy. Was that kid maybe a Metamorphmagus? No... they would have heard about it by now... Harry glanced back to his friends. Because nobody seemed about to speak, he bravely stepped up to the challenge. This was going to suck.

"Okay, really this time. After Ron so _ruthlessly_ and _disloyally_ abandoned me with that sick freak (and we're going to have a talk about that later)" He gave his red-headed friend a glare, "He took me to Binnsie's classroom and locked the door. And _silenced_ it." Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth theatrically. _'She's learning!' _ Harry thought proudly.

Leaning in, the recently-declared brunette lowered his voice as he continued. "I asked him, 'dude, what the hell?' And he was all like, 'you know you want it.'" Ron shook his head solemnly. "I know, right? So I was all, 'except for the fact that I was _drunk!_' and he was like, 'not _that _drunk.' Then that made me think... if I was sober enough to, _you know,_" He made an all-encompassing gesture with his hand. His friends nodded. "Then I was probably sober enough to-" Harry broke off, looking down past Hermione's chair.

His sudden halt in speaking caused Ron and Hermione to follow his line of vision, their eyes resting upon a short, round third-year boy crouching behind Hermione's chair. It might have been a fairly decent hiding spot, if it weren't for the fact that the boy's width couldn't really be concealed by the furniture.

"Yeah, that's not quite going to work." Ron said, with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The kid didn't seem to realize that the trio was talking to him, so Harry decided to step it up a notch.

"BOY!" Uncle Vernon had been good for _something_, at least. The lad jumped and whipped around, flab soaring this way and that. "Is there something specific you wanted to add, or did you just plan on chillin' listening to our conversation?"

All he received for his efforts was a round-eyed stare. HOWEVER, anyone who has seen the movie Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone can vouch for the fact that Harry Potter was _not_ one to pass up an opportunity to glare.

As the youngling was obviously withering under the intense stare, Harry allowed him to turn his luminous gaze onto Hermione, silently pleading with her to let him live.

The witch showed a small amount of mercy. "Leave us, cretin." She ordered. The lad scurried away.

Ron watched his retreating figure with raised eyebrows. "Okayyyyy..." He said, turning to Harry. "Please continue."

A little thrown off by the encounter, Harry struggled to regain his train of thought. "Right. Where was I?"

"He took you to Professor Binns's classroom." Hermione offered.

"Yes! Alright. Okay. Well, he was obviously aware the Binns didn't have class, because you just _know_ that kid's a closet nerd," Hermione nodded. "Then we had that argument- I told you that part, right?" Another nod. "Good." Harry took a deep breath. Ron saw this an smirked.

"Well... alright. This is where it starts to get... a little iffy."

Hermione looked horrified. "Oh God, Harry, not _again?_" She stared at him as if she couldn't believe her eyes.

It's times like these when you find just how interesting shoelaces could be. Especially if you lace 'em up nice and gangsta like he did. Harry felt the heat rising in his face.

Hermione shook her head.

She tapped her foot.

She clicked her tongue.

Hell, she even let out an exasperated sigh! Alas, Harry wouldn't look up. He couldn't. Hells to the No was he going to face this any more directly than he already was. I mean _damn_, he should already be gettin' mad props for just spillin' it like this.

He was _determined _not to be the one to break this awkward silence.

Then, without warning, came the words he so dreaded to hear, spilling from the lips of Flaming Glory. "Harry, we're going to hate you forever now that we know you're gay and don't approve of your private business! We're going to disregard the fact that we've been through EVERYTHING together and saved each other's lives multiple times and had each other's backs through pain and glory! We will disregard the fact that we've become as close as family and depend on each other for everything! We hate you for something that isn't our business in the first place, Harry! And we're of course going to drop a 7-year habit of calling you by your first name and always and forevermore refer to you as 'Potter!'"

Harry's head snapped up so he could stare into Ron's eyes, horrified. "But... like you said, we've been-"

Ron quickly raised his hands to stop the flow of speech, his eyebrows so high on his forehead they were in danger of disappearing into his hairline. "Joking, dude. I was _joking._" He smiled a bit nervously. "I basically just said why we _weren't_ going to start hatin' on you."

Harry flushed even redder and went back to studying his awesome Spongebob shoelaces. "Oh." He said. "Cool."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

As the three friends continued to sit by the warm firelight Harry eased up again, his smile growing wider as he realized that they really were with him and his close support.  
He gazed off into the distance, imagining the three on their adventures…

_Harry, galloping at the front at a jet black steed with fire lacing its leaping legs, was grasping his wand outstretched, pointing the peaceful weapon at all evil! Ron, galloping behind Harry to his left on a chariot of a ginger horse yelled to Harry words of encouragement, parting the path of admiring fans with a graceful sweep of his wand. On Harry's right, slightly behind him, galloped Hermione, a spell book in hand, hair flowing out lusciously in waves to the wind, whispering incantations of worship to Harry Potter._

Harry's mouth fell open in a daze at the thought, his green eyes glazing over…

_The team of three was riding into victory, through prairies of lily-blossoms, and lakes of mirrors showing Harry's dazzling face for all the gods to reflect upon. Up a stony path of rainbow colored cobblestones they rode powerfully and high witches and wizards on either side of the road bowed to the troop of three._

_  
Harry led them to a high peak on an ice covered mountain, stopping near the gates of a blue-lit palace. Harry fixed his hair, ruffling it to the side, and Hermione whispered how perfect it looked, and Ron said he thought Harry was very handsome and ready. Harry rode up to the palace gates, into a great fog. From the fog a white horse approached his, the horse talked to him, "Ride upon me, and I shall lead you to the thing you desire." _

_  
Hermione very conveniently levitated Harry onto the other horse and the threel went trotting under a pearly arch. The white horse led, and when they came to a large bronze door it stopped, let out a large neigh, and the door opened slowly, exposing its secrets to Harry's prying eyes. Harry wasn't surprised when Malfoy walked up to him, pulled him from the horse and began kissing him. Icicles shook and Hermione and Ron smiled serenely. Meanwhile, Malfoy pulled down Harry's limber body to the ground and began to rub against him. What was this about? Harry was asking himself, why were they still there? He wanted Ron and Hermione to LEAVE!  
_

"_Harry," Malfoy whispered._

_Harry didn't answer, just sucked in a breath._

"_Harry." This time it was more commanding, reprimanding, demanding Harry's attention._

…"Harry! HARRY! Wake up!" Ron was shaking him, and Hermione was turned away, blushing madly. Harry woke from his daze quickly and gave a don't-ever-fucking-wake-me-up-again look, then followed Ron's little nod downwards. A large bulge was acting as a beacon in the dormitory to every Gryffindor girl and boy still awake. Harry couldn't speak; he just let out a distraught "humph," and ran up the stairs.

He had not been surprised in the dream, but now he was completely surprised and appalled at himself! How could Malfoy have entered his thoughts that way! _'He has a grip hold on me—that sick freak.,'_ Harry groaned into his pillow, feeling his hardness against the bed, and realizing he'd have to relieve it soon if he wanted any sleep. He sighed angrily and walked bandy-legged to the bathroom.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Down in the dormitory Ron and Hermione had finished wiping everyone in the dorm's memories of Harry's little incident, and had seated themselves comfortably once more to talk about "this Malfoy issue."

Hermione sighed and took a sip of tea, "I don't see why it has to be Malfoy! Of all the guys in the blasted world, he picks the rudest one."

"Oh, come on Hermione, 'of all the guys?' It's obvious it would be Malfoy! You've seen his looks," Ron retorted matter-of-factly, though sounding a bit reluctant, "But I agree, he can't just expect to get away with all the bloody shit he's put into the newspaper about Harry, and then take over Harry's body as well!"

Hermione furrowed her brow and bit her quill, "He did put all that shit in there! Brain-washing penial fluids--What a slippery-skinned snake!"

Ron wrinkled his nose. They stared off, brooding over the disgusting actions of Malfoy over the years, and didn't speak for some time.

The fire let out a large pop, and Ron finally loosened his mouth again, "He deserves to have something coming."

"Oh don't be petty Ron!" Hermione said quickly.

"No, we have this power over him now, we know his weakness. You know what I'm talking about Hermione, don't try to lie."

She sighed, looked at his big blue eyes that held so much excitement in them, "You're right Ron, I've wanted this for a long time."

"So, do you have any problems with my idea?"

"Well elaborate on it- thus far, no, I think in using Harry we can only help him gain justice against his new-found manipulator." Her nose went up in distaste for the green-snake boy, "This year, it would be very nice to end with the satisfaction of Harry being avenged and Malfoy getting what he deserves."

The two leaned in, and through the night they talked of their plans of vengeance on the blonde boy with an ice palace in the palm of his hand.

1- A groan? Not quite.


	3. Superheroes And Solitude

Good day, our faithful readers! This is Slytherins kick ASS writing at the moment, AnakinDancing is busy resting her weary eyes. We, dear friends, have finally reached the moment of truth- Chapter 3; Superheroes And Solitude. Please enjoy!

By the way, I noticed we had forgotten our little disclaimer in the previous chapters, so here it is.

If I owned Harry Potter… oooooohoho, you have _no idea_.

Superheroes And Solitude

Harry had never been too good at napping.

He could doze off sometimes, but only when it was at absolutely the _worst_ moment to do so.

He was almost always tired, because school just sucked and he had to get up early pretty much every day, but somehow, he just couldn't sleep when it was still light out.

Which sucked, because he was hella sleepy right now.

Getting off twice in one day will do that to ya.

Admitting defeat by the Napping Lord, Harry sighed and checked his watch. Lunch wasn't for another half hour. Damn it.

What to do, what to do...

Life could get boring fast when you didn't have a snake-faced psychopath chasing after you twenty-four seven.

_'...'_

_'Psssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...'_

_'Wwwwoooooooowwwwwwww...'_

Harry yawned.

He checked his watch again.

Twenty-seven minutes until lunch.

_'Oooohhhh myyyyyyy gooooddddddd...'_

_'Wait!'_ Harry sat up so fast his head hurt. He clapped a hand to his aching temple. _'I've GOT it!'_

With a graceful leap out of bed, Harry positively flew over to Seamus's... whatever you would call it. Area of the room.

Harry had only ever treated one of his classmates to this experience before, and that had been... Well, actually, he lied. It had never happened.

But now was the time.

Snatching his prize, Harry realized he should probably let Seamus know it was time. He was ready. Harry ran to the door and threw it open.

"Seamus! Come hither, my darling!"

Seamus reached the top of the stairs panting. He had obviously hurried up as fast as he could. "I hurried up as fast as I could! What ever could you require of me?"

Harry held it up, earning a gasp of pleasure from his sandy-haired companion.

"Oh, Harry, do you really mean it?"

The younger Gryffindor nodded. He smiled as his friends face broke into a wide grin.

"I thought you would never come around! Get on the bed, love!"

_'Oooh, so he likes to order me around, too? I guess I can deal with that.'_ Harry thought to himself, smirking. His smile widened as he imagined Malfoy's face when he found out about this.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry adjusted himself so he was comfortable, listening as Seamus squirted some of the liquid onto his fingers. Turning around, Harry flashed his friend a toothy grin.

"Don't let me down." He joked.

"I would never disappoint you, Harry." Seamus said seriously.

"I know."

Harry closed his eyes as he first felt the fingers brushing across him, leaving streaks of gel behind. He really hoped this would work out. _'Don't worry yourself,'_ he thought. _'Seamus is the best in the house.'_

"I've always wanted to do this, Harry. Ever since I first saw you. You know that, don't you?"

Harry smiled serenely to himself as he felt a finger push a little harder into his skin, rubbing in small circles. "You've only reminded me at every opportunity you got."

Seamus laughed. "I couldn't help it. I can't believe you made me wait this long! We both would have been so much happier!"

Harry's eyes opened as he felt the finger applied with _much more_ pressure this time. "I never had time during the war, and before that, this wasn't really part of my life."

"It could have been. It was part of _my _life."

Harry took a deep breath, thinking how to reply to that. "But you've always been more mature than me."

He could tell Seamus was raising his eyebrows.

"Well," he corrected himself, "at least in this area."

"That's true. But it shouldn't be. Your hair has so much _potential!_"

Harry laughed as fingers sculpted his hair, shaping and twisting to perfection. -1-

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Malfoy's mind swarmed with gnats of images from the days before. He sat under an oaken stairwell, swatting an ancient cobweb with his slender white hand. He brooded over his unintelligible friends Crabbe and Goyle, who had no comprehension of the magnificence of Malfoy's meticulous plans. 

Today Malfoy felt one of his meticulous plans was being frustrated. For, that morning, as the golden light of Apollo streamed in the dining hall windows, he had been caught off guard. Hindered so to speak; Malfoy pursed his lips in annoyance, thinking back to the dining hall earlier…

Malfoy had been lording over his buttered rolls and apple tart, ignoring the white-haired, red eyed girl twittering at his shoulder. His hair had been glossed back earlier with an ivory comb, and his body had been delicately showered to rid it of all Cain's oils. He sat with his back straight and masculine, ready to snap at the girl who now let her finger's rudely glide across his hair-line. To Malfoy the touching of his hair was beyond violating; his reaction was not surprising.

Before one could mutter "Dragon's Tongue," his head was snapped and hand clasping hers, his fist crushing her sweaty fingers into broken blades. His eyes penetrated hers with dark threats, her face taking over an icy tint as she cowered away from him. What happened out of the corner of Malfoy's eye was not quite expected.

He dropped her hand as quickly as he had crushed it, and his eyes looked on, down the long golden isle; his mouth dropping open to reveal his soft wanting tongue.

Harry Potter. To Malfoy's sharp eyes, he was walking with a lion's prowl, Bob Dylan's carefulness, and Mick Jagger's strut. Sex was on tight black, pinstriped pants showing the package of his dreams. Malfoy's fingers went hypnotically to his lips, letting out a gasp of hair as his eyes found Harry's black locks. How had Harry found the sex-hair of a wizard's darkest fantasies? And Mr. Potter was coming closer to Malfoy, by the second, until Malfoy's fingers were wet with his own drool and his cock gaining strength and willpower, luckily hidden by the table and his own tight pants.

The ultimate shame came over Malfoy then. Harry Potter didn't look at him, he walked on. Malfoy, had let the sex-haired wonder surprise him. This was why he was punishing himself in a corner of cobwebs. It wasn't like he could ever let Harry get away with this; it wasn't like he could ever let Harry treat him as his bitch.

He was preparing himself to go into hiding; he would have to drop away for a while, let Harry's mind build up with longing for their memories. He would have to punish Harry for his disrespect of trying to catch him off guard. Next week, he decided solemnly; Next week, and no earlier.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It had been a day.

And entire bloody day.

Actually more than that.

Twenty six hours.

Not that Harry was counting or anything, but...

Twenty six hours was a long, long time to go without knowing what reaction your... most recent sexual conquest thought of your incredibly sexy hair styling.

I mean, come on, can you really expect someone _not_ to wonder why the Hell Malfoy wasn't showing up to class?

Harry'd thought he'd had it down, he had thought Malfoy was practically drooling over his Sex Hair, but could he have been wrong?

Surely not.

Harry hadn't needed to look at Malfoy to know the other boy had been _staring_.

But still...

Twenty six hours was a long, long time.

Harry started as he felt a note slip between his forearm and the desk. Professor McGonagall was rambling on about something lame, as usual. Listening in, Harry realized they were finally going to start giving life to objects larger than teapots. Oh joy.

As inconspicuously as he could manage, Harry pulled the note to his lap and unfolded it. Ron's huge, untidy scrawl, so different from Malfoy's neat print, lay in the exact middle of the page. _'Way to leave me a place to write back.'_ Harry thought to himself.

**'****WHAT'S WRONG?  
-RON'**

_'Really? It's from Ron? Oh my god, I had no idea!'_ Harry smirked to himself as he considered what to write back. Jeeze, what to write, what to write? Hmm... Well, how about

'Nothing.'

That would do just fine. He slipped the note to Ron, waiting for exasperation to show on the redhead's face. He turned to Harry with an expression that said, quite clearly, 'you-had-better-tell-me-what-the-hell-is-wrong-or-I'll-take-Hermione-out-tonight-and-you-won't-have-anyone-to-do-your-homework-for-you.'

Wow.

Harry wondered how Ron could say all that with a face. If Ron were a superhero, he would be Amazing Facial Expression Man. You've seen the movies-Ron can have some fucked up faces. Damn.

Anyways, Harry leaned over to whisper his awe at Amazing Facial Expression Man's amazing facial expressions, hoping it would distract the superhero from certain matters at hand, when a voice calling him, calling him into the darkness that was to

"Pay attention, Mr. Potter! What, may I ask, is so important that it cannot wait until after class?" -2- For a second, Harry allowed himself to marvel at her voice. It was possibly the most regal sound he had ever heard. If she were a superhero, she would be Professor Regality.

Oh, wait, she was still looking at him. "I was just leaning over to tell Ron that he could have an entire conversation just by looking at someone."

Professor McGonagall raised her regal eyebrows. "And that couldn't have waited until after class?"

Harry grinned sheepishly. "I would have forgotten." A girl tittered. _'That's another interesting word, tittered. Who the hell made that up?'_

Regal features looked down upon his lowly form. "Surely you would have not. Now, if you continue to mess about in my classroom you will find yourself in detention, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Very good." She turned regally back to the class and continued her lecture. At least, Harry assumed she was doing that; he wasn't paying attention. Again. He was pondering Malfoy's absence. Again. Damn, that boy needed to get his shit straight, don't you think?

The rest of the day crawled by, and by nightfall Harry was completely exhausted. Which was funny, because, well, did he actually _do_ anything that day? I think you know the answer. If you don't, the answer is no. He was just a lazy bum. Always had been. Except for the whole... killing Voldemort thing. Ain't no thang.

Lying on his bed, Harry wondered just what the hell had happened to him. One moment he was celebrating his recurring victories over Malfoy, the next he was on his knees. So... where'd he go wrong? And why the _hell_ did he fuck around with Malfoy _again?_ The whole 'impressing the Slytherin with Sex Hair' thing was understandable after what had happened, but why did what happened happen? Why the hell did what had happened happen when what had happened should never have happened to _anyone ever?_ Harry allowed himself a moment to figure out what he had just thought.

_'Yeah!'_ He agreed with himself. _'What the hell happened?'_ Harry checked his watch again. Thirty two and a half hours.

Wait.

That's not right.

He had _not_ been doing that _all day,_ had he?

Checking his watch over Malfoy to see how long he'd been gone! Harry clapped a hand to his face and dragged it down in exasperation. That was not okay. He couldn't believe that he had only just realized how not okay that was. _Girls_ fawned over their sex tarts, not boys. Not men.

-Wait, before he did this, he had to take his opportunity. _'If Malfoy were a superhero he would be Sex Tart The Delicious.'_ He thought quickly.

There. Done. Now, he would not be having any of this... this... despicable _watch checking_.

_'I must make a resolution, my only solution, to start a revolution of body, mind and my soul's retribution.'_ Harry unbuckled his watch and threw it onto his bedside table. His arm felt strangely light without it. Harry tried lifting it up and down a few times, thrown off by the change. He flipped his wrist to check the time.

Oh yeah.

Well, that wasn't ever going to work out anyway. Harry put his watch back on, feeling stupid.

The young Gryffindor lad figured he should probably visit with his friends a little bit. Because really, what kind of a reject lies on his bed all alone instead of chillin' with the homies? Oh yeah. Him.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, the brunette was temporarily blinded by an incredible flash of light. "Hullo, Colin" He mumbled, reaching under his glasses to rub at his eyes.

"Hi Harry! What's that on your neck? Didja get some action, huh, Harry? Dijda? Didja, Harry? Didja get-"

"_Yes, _Colin, I got some action, okay? Excuse me." Harry covered his hickey-scarred neck and weaved his way over to where Ron and Hermione sat. Hermione was rolling her eyes at Ron, who seemed to be mumbling to himself.

"...dickhead, he's such a bastard. So smucking fug- fucking smug, that rich, poncy-ass cockface! God damn it, he needs to fucking kill himself! Ha, I bet he's a cutter- I bet he's fucking emo and angsty and he cuts himself! He's such an ass, rubbing his money in everybody's faces- he's an_ evil douchebag!_"

"So, Ron," Harry said, cutting off Ron's tirade as he sat down, "who are you on about?"

"Malfoy!" Ron said loudly, then halted. He searched for something to say... "Umm... I mean... not _Malfoy_ Malfoy..."

Harry looked at him skeptically. If Harry were a superhero, he would be... well... he didn't know just yet. He supposed Captain Sexy would work for now. He smirked and waited for Ron to continue.

The Burning Man seemed to take the smile as encouragement. "Well, um... okay, see, I support your choices and all that bullshit, but I still hate him."

"And you were just... muttering about him for no reason? He hasn't done anything to you recently- he hasn't even been here." Harry said, leaning back into the overstuffed embrace of the fire-warmed chair.

"Well, no... not quite. Hermione and I were just talking about-" Hermione looked up sharply. "About, umm..." Ron glanced at her nervously before turning back to Harry. "About how sudden it is that you two are... doing whatever you are doing... What _are_ you doing?"

Harry contemplated this for a moment. "I don't really know. We're not going out," Ron let out a relieved breath, "but we've done more than some couples have, so I guess we must have _something_, right?"

Amazing Facial Expression Man turned to his girlfriend with and Amazing Facial Expression of anxiety. He must have been taking this worse than he had originally let on. Oh, poo.

Filing this information away for later consideration, Harry continued. "Where do you guys think he's been? I mean, he was completely gaping at my Sex Hair, then he just disappeared!" He turned to Hermione for a wise revelation. If she were a superhero, she would be Wisdom Woman. No doubt about that.

True to her superhero name, Wisdom Woman opened up the depths of her mind and let out a pearl of beautiful knowledge. "Maybe his mom's sick."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The contemplating of depression was interesting to Harry at this time.

There is the bored staring blankly at the scarred zombies around you depression, where there can be no light, no darkness, only grayness with metal scars stained in the sad, sad ignorant people around you. Then there is the quivering on long walks of loneliness depression, where you could stare at your bony hands for hours and hold back tears when you feel your cheek on the cold grass. (And Harry had done this many times in the past couple days, letting murky potions of tears squeeze down his icy cheeks). The latter is a feeling of utter longing of being caged in your head for too long alone and being able to think of all you want to do in the world but having no mental stability or companionship to do so with.

Harry felt the insanity factor in bed with him. He'd been taking to sleeping longer, smoking in the dark mornings at his window sill, and although Ron could make him smile when he did his monkey-face, Harry grew more longing day by day.

His watch lay by him, clouded over with water as he had thrown it into a puddle. He didn't want to fix it and he didn't care if he was late to classes.

During the day he was shaky and lonesome, but at night he was anything but that, he was passionately missing and erotically charged like no other.

He _did not_ pleasure himself.

This was a _resolution of his, fixed as the planets of Scorpio Professor Trelawney so often talked of. The test of no comparison, testing the very muscles on his finger tips; nothing compared to his killage of Lord Voldemort. _

_  
Nothing compared to that…and he drifted off into dream-space. Acompanied by the lord of stars named for dogs, and moons calling to wolves, and inner thoughts gone unconnected into little dusties for your brain to powder it's self with._

The first thing that came into his dreamy darkness from inside, behind his eyes, were two slender hands, pulling him, pulling and silently dragging him into a moat.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Yes, yes, it's a bit short, but we've been busy young women! And, well, I just want to tell you not to be too worried. Things may very well start looking brighter for young Harry.

On a separate topic, here are our notes for you-

-1- We're such tricksy little buggers, aren't we?

-2- I seriously believe EVERY SINGLE TEACHER has said that before.

That is all, for now. We shall see you upon the next chapter!

Oh hold up wait wait wait!

Please please please review- it encourages us to write faster and tells us what you like and don't like. Also, it makes us really really happy.


	4. Reunited

A'ight, y'all! We got's ya another sexin' chapter up, but Alaina (Slytherins kick ASS) is going to be gone for about a week and a half. Which is totally balls because she's going to miss the Harry and the Potters concert AND the release of Order of the Phoenix. She's just about ready to kill her parents. Seriously.

Anyways, this is some important information. In our story, **YOU NEED PASSWORDS TO GET INTO NOT ONLY THE COMMON ROOMS, BUT THE DORMS TOO.** Remember that.

We don't own it and we're poor. Not that poor, but compared to J.K. Rowling… damn.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pimp Daddy Neville rode his girl like he rode his blinged out broomstick! He had the music turned up loud, clanging and sirening with hard core rap from the ghetto (where he rode the bus once).

His pimp-kane rested against her sm-OOth thigh and he whacked her A$$ with it every couple seconds.

"Harder, harder!" she yelled, clutching the satin sheets resting against her berry-ripe tits.

"You remind me o' uh smoothie I once had in Calcutta an don't make me pull mah gat!"

Neville yelled.

"Harder!"

"You remind me o' muh ma fuckin grandmother's apple tarts at Easter tyme brace yo'self foo'!" Neville screamed.

"HARDER!" Ginny responded.

"You REMIND ME OF EGYPTIAN SPIDERS LEARNING TO DANCE! And shit." Neville was sent over the edge, his cock burst into her.

Harry burst awake! "I just had the WORST dream in the WORLD!" he announced from his forlorn bed at the end of the sleeping rooms.

He looked about. Oh, no. It wasn't a dream.

Neville pulled himself from Ginny (still panting) and tied a leopard towel over his cock, hanging dangerously close to falling off of him, and walked over, pleased to say, "Sorry about dat Harry. My girl's got a tight punizzle wOrd!"

Harry clutched his sheets to his mouth, horrified still at the sight.

"How did she even come in here?!"

Neville contorted into a disturbing smirk. "Cracked the code," He gave Ginny a nod of his pimp-hat.

Ginny reclined, her legs outstretched, nude upon the bed, glorified in her cleverness of cracking the common room spells.

She looked goddess-like, in a really slutty over-the-top skank way.

Harry's eyes widened and he threw off the blankets with a large swoosh, "Give me this treasure," He growled, refering to the common room anti-spell, "I will do anything you ask for this knowledge."

The next hour was not a pretty sight.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The day was long, treacherous, and Harry was combing his hair numerous times through with a potion Seamen, scratch that, Seamus concocted especially for him. He said it contained a hint of Lion's musk, and a dollop of cherry juice.

Harry thought the smell was manly enough, but he still felt a little bit effeminate putting it on, that's a secret though.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/Harry checked his watch. 10 till 1 in the morning. Perfect.

Carefully studying the Marauder's Map, as he had been doing for days now, the young man grinned to himself at the small, black dot labeled 'Draco Malfoy,' winding its way up a set of stairs to the Slytherin male dorms. Now for the hard part.

Earlier that day Harry had learned, through a very reliable source, that his tart had returned from... wherever the Hell he had been. That was soon to be sorted out.

The moment Harry heard of this... this... ergh he didn't even have a word for it! Betrayal? Yes, that's a good one. Them moment Harry heard of this betrayal, this not-telling-my-jack-off-partner-when-I-return-from-my-mysterious-vacation-during-which-I-left-him-lonely-and-horny-and-ridiculously-depressed, he had raced up to his common room and grabbed the Marauder's Map. Indeed, that blond bastard was back.

And after that disgusting Neville Fiasco, he knew how to track him down.

So here he was. Outside the Slytherin commons, double- and triple-checking his map to make sure all of the snakes were tucked comfortably into their nighties. Yes, good, good, oh- wait! Just look who's gettin' some action? Blaise Zabini and... Marietta Edgecombe? Hadn't that bitch graduated last year? Whatever. They were in the girl's dorms (for whatever kinky reason which Harry was perfectly fine not knowing, thanks), so they wouldn't be posing much of a problem.

Reassured that the coast was clear, Harry steeled himself for some intense code-cracking. To emphasize the intensity of the situation, he cracked his knuckles. His knuckles representing codes, if you didn't catch that.

Narrowing his be-specked eyes, Harry recalled Ginny's careful instructions from before. Her voice, clear and soft, floated through his mind. _-I don't know, just look for whatever repeats itself, then it'll show the password. I think that's about it.-_

Helpful.

Ooohhhkaaayyyy... Harry blew out a breath and studied the wall for... anything that repeated itself. Shit, Hermione was the one who was good at this, not him. Ah, balls. This was taking a bit longer than he originally planned. Shit, how the hell was he, being practically blind without his nerdy glasses, supposed to see some random, unknown shape repeat itself on a wall in the _dark?_

Suddenly, Harry heard rushed footsteps behind him. He jumped rearranged his Invisibility Cloak, whispering "_Nox_" to extinguish the light at the end of his wand. Shrinking silently into the shadows, Harry attempted to see just who was in such a rush at this hour in the morning.

Parkinson. Brilliant.

Wait... oh no... oh _yes!_ Oh _yes yes YES!_ If he wasn't mistaken, Zabini and that snitch slut Edgecombe were in the 7th year girl's dorm- ooohhhhoho! This would be an entertaining moment to witness. Harry was sorely tempted to follow Parkinson up to her dorms to watch the scene, but he had more pressing matters to attend to. He did find use of the opened door, however.

Suppose girls can be good for _something,_ if you think hard enough. Harry laughed to himself. Ha! Yeah, right.

Still chuckling quietly, Harry ascended the stairway to the boy's dormitories. Reaching the top, he halted. Damn and double damn. he needed to crack _this _code too. Fuck.

Harry sat down, preparing himself for a long, boring trial. Noticing two large knots in the wooden door, Harry was irresistibly reminded of his dear House-Elf friend.

"Dobby," He whispered into the dark. "Dobby, are you there?"

A resounding crack filled the air, making Harry jump about a foot in the air. Predicting a loud, squeaky greeting from his friend, Harry pressed a finger urgently to his lips. Upon seeing this, Dobby halted whatever he had been preparing to say, and instead lowered his voice to something barely above a whisper.

"What does Harry Potter require of Dobby, sir? How can Dobby be of service? Why is Harry Potter being in the Slytherin rooms?" His squeak, despite the volume, seemed deafening to Harry's ears. He was sure the boys in the dorm room next to them could hear, if not the whole damn house.

"Shhh, Dobby, I need you to be as quiet as possible, okay?" Dobby nodded earnestly, his overlarge ears flapping noisily. "I just need the password into this room, can you give that to me?"

The elf twisted his hands into one of the many scarves tied around his neck, glancing around nervously. "Dobby is not supposed to be giving passwords, Mr. Harry Potter sir, I is not sure it is such a good idea-"

"I promise I won't tell a soul- I'm supposed to know the password already, I had just forgotten it. I have no way of getting in if I don't know it. Please?" Harry widened his eyes until they rivaled the shape of the elf's, making the poor creature glance around nervously.

"You is promising you is not telling anybody you hears this from Dobby, yes?" The elf leaned towards Harry, thankfully quiet.

"Cross my heart and hope to die, dear friend." Harry drew an 'X' over his heart and smiled kindly at the elf, making it beam in return.

"Only for Harry Potter, sir. The password is Franzoesisches Kitzeln." -1- _'What the hell? How is anybody supposed to remember that?'_ Harry thought irritatedly to himself.

"Franzoesisches Kitzeln." He repeated. The elf nodded again. "Thank you so much, Dobby- I owe you. And promise me you won't punish yourself for this, okay?"

The elf grinned. "Thank you very much, Mr. Harry Potter, sir! You is too kind!" He squeaked loudly.

"Ssshhhh!!! No, it's no problem. I'll visit you later, okay?"

"Yes, sir, wonderful, sir!" With another CRACK, the creature was gone, leaving Harry with a ringing in his ears.

He turned to the door. Oh shit. No, he could remember this, if he tried hard enough. Something about France in German, he knew that much.

Shit.

"Franzoes... Franzoesisch Katzle? Franzoesisch Kitzle? Oh, no, that's not it... er... Franzoesisch Kitzeln! No? Hell! Oh! Franzoesisch_es_ Kitzeln!" He heard the lock click loudly.

Pushing the door open, Harry winced at the slight squeak. He glanced around the room. Which bed was Malfoy's? Trust the bastard to close his curtains like everyone else and make life that much harder for Harry. So he set off towards the nearest set of curtains, praying they were Malfoy's.

Of course Harry would overlook his map when he needed it wouldn't he? No doubt!

Peeking into the first set of curtains, Harry was nearly knocked over by the most pungent odor he had ever experienced. This beat the troll in first year by far. Gross.

Backing quickly away from Goyle's bed, the Gryffindor took a few deep, steadying breaths. It wouldn't do to puke in the middle of the Slytherin 7th year boy's dorm room, now would it? Nope, it wouldn't do in the least.

Best to start on the other side of the room, then.

Harry drew back the curtains of the bed laying to the right of the door, corresponding to his own placement in Gryffindor Tower. Here it was. Jackpot. Figuratively, of course. He supposed, if he thought about it, he would call this a Dracopot, but that sounded just downright dirty. Not to mention awkward. He was _totally_ going to use it on Malfoy!

The lion surveyed his prey carefully. Slow, even breathing, sexy blond head buried deep in the covers, hands laying out to one side of the bed- more than perfect for his dastardly plan.

Harry muttered a quick _"Silencio,"_ coating the curtains in silence. He had always liked to think of silence as a semi-solid, kind of like Jell-O. Oh, God, he really wanted some Jell-O right now. But no, he had to restrain himself. Jell-O is for a different time; now he must continue with his plan.

Carefully, oh so carefully, Harry levitated on of Malfoy's arms towards a corner of the four-poster bed. He had to pause more than once, praying the boy's shifting wasn't a sign of waking up. Harry's skin felt like it was on fire, and his bones must have been made of lead. His stomach nearly dropped out of his body when Malfoy rolled over in his sleep, but this turned out to favor Harry even more. Upon reaching his goal, Harry muttered a quick _"Incarcerous,"_ binding Malfoy's wrist to the bedpost. The other wrist was, surprisingly, much easier.

The lion climbed quietly over the covers, holding himself over the blond. Making sure not to disturb Sleeping Beauty here, he slid the cloak off and let it fall off the side of the bed. He silently drew the curtains closed and cast and extra _"Silencio,"_ just in case any creepers tried to listen in. That would be _hella _gross.

After making all of his last minute adjustments- hair, glasses, checking in his handy-dandy pocket mirror that he looked as fabulous as ever,- Harry leaned in towards his favorite little Slytherin. This was going to be good.

Plopping all of his weight down onto the other boy's Danger Zone, Harry yelled out, "WAKE UP, MALFOY!"

The Slytherin yelled and sat up- or at least attempted to. He got about half a foot off the bed, but with his arms tied to the bedposts and Harry anchoring down his nether regions, he couldn't get far.

"What the Hell?!? Potter! What the fuck do you think you're doing? Get me the fuck out of here!" Malfoy struggled against his bonds and bucked up against Harry, attempting to dislodge him. Obviously, that didn't help him very much, but... well... maybe Malfoy was an optimist? Because he sure as hell kept struggling and bucking, regardless of the fact that in his past life, Harry had been a bull rider. No way in hell was one skinny blond gonna knock him off.

"Malfoy, Malfoy, you really need to relax. You must have a lot of pent up stress you haven't released lately, do you want to talk about that?" Malfoy sneered and continued to struggle. The combination did look rather odd.

"Fuck you, Potter! Untie me right now!" Harry smiled condescendingly at him.

"What will you do if I refuse?"

Malfoy planted his feet flat on the bed and used the leverage to lift Harry completely off the bed. The Gryffindor grabbed onto the other's hips, stabilizing himself. "That's not going to work too well. I guess you never knew, I was a bull rider in my past life. This is nothing."

That stopped Malfoy. "What the hell are you blathering on about? Take these ropes off _right now!_"

Harry flashed him another annoying smile. "Not if you talk to me like that. But I _can_ make them more comfortable, I suppose." He leaned over Malfoy, his chest precariously close to the blond's face. He hoped to God he wouldn't get bitten. He quickly tapped the ropes on both hands with his wand, transfiguring them into a soft leather.

Leaning back, he grinned down at Malfoy. "That better?"

The Slytherin was not to be distracted. "What the fuck are you doing, Potter? You had better not be thinking what I think you're thinking, because there is no way in Hell I'm going to allow you to-"

"No, no no no! You've got me all wrong!" Harry paused for a second, considering his next words. What would push the blond's buttons? Well, he'd better start finding out, huh? "But I would like to thank you for reminding me why I... came.

"I wanted to know why you've been _off_ for a week! Do you know what you've been _doing to me?_ You can't just ditch your cum-buddy without giving them a heads up!"

He waited for Malfoy to respond. Fruitlessly.

_'Fine then. He wants to play hardball? We can play hardball.'_ Harry thought savagely.

Harry got up onto his knees and ripped back the covers between him and the other boy. He noticed with glee that his companion apparently slept topless. This night was turning out just perfectly, wasn't it? He sat himself back down on Malfoy's lap.

Loosening his tie, Harry decided now would be a wonderful time to turn the other boy's trademark smirk back upon him. Seeing this, Malfoy narrowed his eyes but said nothing. Oh, so he was pulling the silent act, was he? Let's see how long that'll last. Not long. Not long at all.

Harry leaned down, so that his face was mere inches from Malfoy's. He whipped off his red-and-gold tie and slipped it around the Slytherin's neck. Tying it, he whispered to the other boy, "You can't imagine what I did to myself that week, thinking of you." Harry glanced up from his work to see grey eyes trained on his lips. He smirked at feeling the first twitch of arousal farther down.

"Without you there to help me out, I had to go back to my old ways." Done with the tie, Harry leaned in to Malfoy until their lips were oh-so-lightly touching. "You know, you seem to have a way with me. I have to go at myself three times to get the pleasure you give me in just one round."

Malfoy tried to bring his head up, momentarily pressing his lips more fully to Harry's, but the Gryffindor drew back before any real contact could be made. Malfoy let out a groan of frustration as Harry brought his lips back to their previous light touch.

"You've …_come _with me everywhere, Malfoy. In my bed, in the showers, in the locker rooms... out by the lake." Malfoy closed his eyes and tried to kiss Harry again, to no avail.

Harry ran his fingers down the other's chest, stopping to take hold of a nipple. He twisted it back and forth between his fingers and watched in pleasure as the blond arched up beautifully, before letting himself fall, only to arch up again. Up and down, up and down, over to the side a bit, faster, stronger, firmer, up and down, up and down. It was amazing to watch the blond's head toss, to hear him groan in frustration.

"I suppose that means you want more?" Harry asked, lifting his hand to hover above Malfoy's chest. The Slytherin just glared at him, obviously forcing deep, slow breaths instead of the pants he had just been letting out. Going by the look on his face, Harry would have guessed Malfoy didn't like what had just happened. However, Harry was sitting on a certain little someone who just begged to differ.

"Oh, well, I guess not then. But, really, that was nothing to what I gave myself when I thought of you. I was sore for days." Malfoy moaned and pressed his hips up into Harry. The brunette took a deep breath at the sensation, reveling in the muted pleasure it sent throughout his body. He gathered himself.

"No, you see, mine was a little more like _this_," Harry grabbed each nipple with thumbs and forefingers and rolled them quickly, pressing and squeezing and twisting. Malfoy arched and let out a loud, frustrated breath. Smirking, Harry leaned down and let his lips lightly graze those of his ex-arch nemesis. Said ex-arch nemesis immediately tried to deepen the kiss, but Harry just pulled away. Malfoy followed him up, his hips bucking and back arching, only to have Harry pull away farther. With each move Malfoy made, Harry matched him. It was a careful balancing act, and he couldn't let the Slytherin throw him off.

Without stopping his torture of Malfoy's chest, Harry let his mouth leave the other's. He trailed light, open-mouthed kisses all the way down to the pulse point, noting how the other boy whipped his head over to the side to expose more neck. Malfoy seemed about ready to snap with the tension.

"Christ, Potter, either kiss me or don't, st-stop fucking around!" He forced out.

Harry stopped. Malfoy nearly yelled in frustration. Harry smiled. "You know, you talk really fast when you're agitated." He said conversationally.

Malfoy stared at him. "No, really? Ya' think? I talk fast? Oh my _God,_ Potter, I don't _care!_ Just get on with it!" He emphasized his point with a harsh buck upwards that would have dislodged an amateur.

"Get on with what?" Harry asked insolently, pulling his shirt over his head. He threw it to the side and leaned in to tighten Malfoy's new tie.

"What do think, what? Whatever you came here to do!" Malfoy spat quickly.

"Well," Harry said, running a finger down Malfoy's chest. "I came here to do several things."

"Okay, whatever, I don't care, just- just take off your pants." Malfoy's eyes raked down Harry's chest, taking in the slight swirling of hair, burning all the way down to the rather prominent bulge in the front of his pants.

"I'm actually pretty comfortable."

"Potter! Just do it!"

"Fine," Harry said, raising himself up to undo the zipper, "you don't have to get all pushy about it, Jeeze."

"Hurry up!" Malfoy fidgeted impatiently.

The brunette gave him a reproachful look and sat back down heavily, his pants undone but still on. "Well, if you're going to talk to me like that, I don't think I'm going to help you out any. I can just get off, sitting on top of you and leave you here. Would you like that?" Harry honestly thought Malfoy _might_ actually enjoy that, but it wasn't going to happen. He was a fair guy; Malfoy'd get what he needed.

"Erg, good God, no, Potter, I don't want that, just hurry the fuck up!"

"Ask me nicely."

Malfoy glared at him. "I would appreciate it if you would hurry the fuck up."

Harry ran a finger over Malfoy's nipple again, smirking at the other's intake of breath. "You know the magic words."

The Slytherin's glare didn't dissipate, and for a moment Harry thought he was going to refuse. But then, the blond's eyes closed and he forced a "Please" through gritted teeth.

"Very nice. See, manners aren't that hard!" Ignoring the hateful stare burning holes in his head, Harry raised himself up and, after some maneuvering, got his pants off.

Malfoy closed his eyes again, this time in exasperation. "Good Lord, Potter, your boxers too."

Harry chuckled and did as he was told. He scooted himself backwards and hooked his fingers under the waist of Malfoy's pajamas. "Should I take yours down, too?"

"Yes." Hmm. He sounded a little bit annoyed. Poor baby.

"Boxers and all?" Damn, Harry could _hear _the smirk in his voice.

_"Yes!_"

"Say the magic word!"

_"Please, for Christ's sake, just get on with it!"_

"Righty-o!" Harry slid the pajamas down and whipped them away. They hit the curtain and fell noiselessly down the side of the bed. Smiling idly to himself, Harry reached over into his pants pocket and pulled out his wand, summoning a jar of K-Y Jelly. Unscrewing the cap, Harry looked up at Malfoy again. This time, he was staring at the lid of the jar, waiting for it to finally open. Never looking away from the other boy, Harry scooped some of the lube onto his fingers and touched it lightly to the blond's cock. Malfoy sucked in a hiss of breath and held it, closing his eyes as Harry smeared the gel over every centimeter of his manhood. -2- He didn't open his eyes as Harry used the rest to lubricate himself.

Harry reached down and took hold of himself, waiting for the Slytherin to open his eyes.

"Oohhh, Malfoy, I wish you could feel what I'm feeling right now..." That got his attention.

"F-fuck you, Potter," He said, staring at Harry's movement over his cock. "What about me?"

"Well, I suppose I could..." Harry slid forward until he sat over Malfoy's cock once more, feeling its length pressing on his ass and balls, emanating a powerful heat. Fuck, that felt incredible.

With one hand on himself and one holding onto Malfoy's hip, Harry started to grind himself into the other boy and aaaahhhh, that was... oh, fuck, he... Jesus Christ, he had no fucking idea... and... aaahhhh... up and down, forward and backwards, with heat and rubbing and grinding and stroking and faster! Faster! And kissing and biting and licking and tweaking and sucking and harder and harder and harder and faster and more more more more and _oh my God!_ That tight feeling in the bottom of his stomach and the tingles and the need for more and _fuck!_ And it was all so hot, and he was sweating and he was sliding and moaning and gripping Malfoy's hip way too hard and practically melding himself into the other boy- he wouldn't be surprised if he had a Malfoy imprint on his ass after this- but it still wasn't enough, but it was too much, and it was harder and harder and harder and Harry came with a yell, covering his hand with cum, spilling onto his companion, feeling Malfoy come underneath him, warm and sticky and wet. Harry collapsed, panting, onto Malfoy.

He lay there for, he didn't know how long, and was starting to drift off to sleep when he was jerked back to alertness by the man underneath him. He looked up into stormy grey eyes.

"Potter, you need to get off and untie me. We can't stay like this all night long."

Harry sighed, sitting up. The dried cum was... uncomfortable to say the least. He leaned over to grab his wand again, and vanished the straps holding Malfoy down. The Slytherin brought his arms down and rubbed his wrists tenderly while Harry cleaned the two of them off.

Harry dressed as quickly and quietly as he could next to the bed, wanting to get back to his dorm as soon as possible. Once done, he grabbed his invisibility cloak and map, and headed for the door. Remembering, he turned around.

"Malfoy," he whispered.

The boy turned to look at him, his features outlined in the dark.

"Where did you go for that week?"

Malfoy seemed to consider this for a while. "My mother was sick." Came the quiet reply

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry's heart quickened as his eyes opened to bright morning light. Finally the drive to face the day! He breathed in deeply, smelling something wonderful on him. Sighing, he smelled what he knew was cherry, lion's musk, and Malfoy scent…oh, what desires.

He licked his lips absentmindedly tasting a bit of Malfoy left there from last night. He let his manly hands touch his dick, knowing it had been touching Malfoy. Did anyone ever mention that Harry had a slight wolfishness to his grin? He licked that as well, knowing full well he'd have to use it sometime on the pissed-off hopelessly desiring dragon's cousin.

He flipped out of bed before he could do any freak-out thoughts and ran about yelling around the room and slapping everyone's sleep-dead bodies with his Gryffindor tie. Neville grunted a discombobulated "Fo shizzle word."

"Today is a day not to be wasted fellow Gryffindor men!"

Ron was leaned against the bathroom sink, trying to wipe off excess soap on his pajama pants, as usual. It didn't take him a second to hear that Harry had most definitely done something he did not want to hear about.

Despite Ron's wishes Harry burst in a few moments later just the same, whacking him with his tie on the thigh and giving him a flashy grin. Ron tried to look like he was upset and stoic, but he ended up looking constipated, and soon ended up smiling back at Harry; who was doing a victory dance by moving his crotch against the sink all freaky-like.

Ron groaned, "Don't make me bust a move on you."

Harry yelled amusedly and continued to dance freaky like with the sink.

Ron was being pushed to his edge; he started twisting and got up against a bidet, beginning to freak a bit himself.

Harry laughed out loud at Ron freak-dancing, and Ron wiggled his leg up higher, letting his arms swing above his head. He looked like a lizard with a broken spine trying to hump a spayed mouse. A bit like a Xander-ish moron with his arms flailin like that.

Harry was overwhelmed and ended up going into seizures on the tile floor laughing.

"No but seriously, Ron," when Harry had regained himself, "You have GOT to smell Goyle's bed!"

Ron's eyes bugged in a you-sick-mother-fucker-getting-in-Goyle's-bed look. "Harry!"

"No, I mean, EW!" Harry caught on to what Ron's look was saying. He vomited a bit in his mouth.

"I just vomited a bit in my mouth."

Then suddenly Ron realized what this meant, what this all meant and what this meant for Ron and his family and how this affected Ron over the years and his self-confidence levels being continually blasted down by the Malfoys!

"Bloody HELL Harry! You visited Malfoy DIDN'T you?" A look of profound wretchedness melted into his pinkish face.

Harry stared at Ron, discomberbified by his sudden outburst. "Umm... yeah?" He said tentatively.

"WHY?"

Silence. "...What?"

"WHY the FUCK did you fuck around with MALFOY?" Ron's eyes were beginning to bulge out of his head, making Harry take half a step back in fright.

"What's... Why are you all mad all of a sudden? I mean, I thought you were okay with it, and I was all depressed when he was gone- what was I going to do?" What the Hell was Ron's problem?

"You could've, I don't know, NOT fucked Malfoy?"

No, this was not okay! Who the Hell did Ron think he was, getting mad all of a sudden? "Okay, first of all," Harry said, crossing his arms over his super-sexy man chest, "I didn't _fuck_ Malfoy. We just got down." Ron opened his mouth furiously, but Harry cut him off. "Second of all, why the fuck would I be depressed for a week, then have the chance to end that depression and _not_ take it? And lastly, why the _Hell_ are you getting so freaked out by this all of a sudden- you just told me last week that you were okay with it!"

"What I told you was that I was okay with _you_, not with you fucking _Malfoy_-"

"-I didn't fuck him!"

"FINE! Getting FUCKED by Malfoy, it's practically the same thing!" Ron's face was turning purple; for the life of him, Harry couldn't figure out what had changed. Was Hermione turning cold-fish?

"We didn't fuck, Ron, but thanks for announcing all of this for the whole bloody house to hear! And I don't see why you would go from being fine with this to flipping shit for no damn reason! What the hell got into you, man?"

But Ron just stormed out the bathroom door, flicking his wand on the way out. Harry recognized that- oh, well, then Ron must've put a silencing charm up without Harry noticing. At least the whole house didn't know.

But... what? What the Hell had happened? Shaking his head, Harry decided he could think about this and get dressed at the same time. He headed back into the dorm room to find Ron missing, and a suspicious looking Seamus in his place.

"Harry, what's going on? You've been creeping lately. First you talk about Neville blowing a guy-"

Neville looked up. "Whut da fuck?"

"-then you get all sexed out, then you're all emo for a week, and now Ron's blowing a cornhole and he won't say why. What's going on?" He said again, fixing Harry with his patented death-stare.

"Shit, I can't quite say right now, alright, Seamus?" Harry sighed. "It's just... well, you'll probably find out soon enough. I promise." He gave his friend a pleading look.

The Irishman raised an eyebrow, ignoring Neville's gangsta-spluttering. "You still owe me for your gorgeous locks."

Harry looked to the ground. "Yeah, I'll tell you soon, I just can't right now."

Neville tried to butt in. "Whut'chu thankin? I'm straight as a gat!"

They ignored him.

Fret not lieblings, REVIEW A LOT and we might be able to speed it up. You know, maybe add a little sexiness in the next chapter, too.

-1- it means 'French tickle'

-2- Sorry, but I just love that word. Come on, I know you do too.


	5. Douchebags And Discoveries

**Hello again, my faithful friends! We have concocted yet another glorious dollop of creamy goodness for you- please enjoy!**

**And by the way… how fucking BOMB was that movie? You know of which I speak! I thought they got Umbridge pretty well- she was fucking crazy. They did cut a lot of the plot out, though.**

**However, I was still entranced by the scenery they used. Damn and double damn.**

**Anyways, the next chapter probably won't come out until after the 7****th**** book (I'm pretty much pissing myself with anticipation), so… savor the experience. Please. Do it for me! Because- this is your last chance to read a new Harry Potter book! Your last chance! You must make it last as long as possible! I implore you!**

**On a less exciting but more immediate note, here.**

Harry slipped into the Great Hall, peering around in his I'm-just-a-small-child manner that he has. His peepers landed gracefully upon his... rather limited group of friends. He really should try branching out someday. Ron and Hermione sat near the end of the long Gryffindor table, muttering to each other suspiciously. Harry briefly considered sneaking around and attempting a snatch of their conversation before he was noticed, but that probably wouldn't help him much with Ron. Not that it was his fault they were in a fight- Ron was being one hell of a prat- but, today, he didn't feel much like aggravating their quarrel.

Fuckin' Gryffindors were always so damn touchy.

Opting to take the high road, Harry strode proudly over to his friends, kicking a third-year girl out of her seat next to Hermione. Once settled, he turned to his dos amigos. "So..." He cleared his throat awkwardly. He was never really good at starting 'let's-just-pretend-nothing-happened-conversations.' "Umm... have we heard any news on the Death Eaters yet?" There! Foolproof! There was no way they could steer that conversation to his rendezvous with Malfoy!

Ron glared at him. "Yes, actually. Supposedly one of them has begun poisoning one of the more prominent Light side figures."

Harry stared at him, not actually having expected them to have an answer. "What? Who?"

"Well, we don't know the names yet, but the Death Eater apparently looks a bit like a woman, and the Light side figure is supposed to look a bit of the midget build. You see, we've only gotten pictures so far."

Completely nonplussed, Harry glanced over to Hermione, and was surprised to find her glaring at Ron. He was about to ask what was going on when she turned her burning eyes onto him. Harry recoiled at the reproachful heat he saw in them.

"Ron's just told me that you two had a fight about..." She lowered her voice. "Your meetings with Malfoy?"

Harry narrowed his eyes and looked over to Ron. Burning Man had a nice mixture of anger and smugness gracing his features. Damn, Harry was jealous. How could he do that so effortlessly?

The shorter of the three turned back to Hermione. "Yes, if that's what you want to call them. He got all pissed at me for visiting… _him_ last night, and wouldn't tell me why."

Hermione turned to Ron. "Is this true? You didn't tell him why?"

The redhead's eyes started to wander downwards, but were snapped back up proudly before any true damage could be done. "I would have thought it was obvious." He stated defiantly.

Unfortunately, the Fates had chosen this morning for Harry to be unusually thick. "Well it _isn't!_" He snapped. "What's your problem with me fucking who I want to fuck?" A nearby fourth-year looked up from her hash browns and nudged a neighbor. He lowered his voice. "It's none of your business!"

"So you _did_ fuck him then?" Ron's lip curled in a distasteful (and rather Malfoyish) sneer.

"Look, I really don't have the patience for this kind of bullshit. Will you just tell me what the problem is? Please?" He added exasperatedly, hoping to lessen Ron's indignation.

The method seemed to have worked. The Boy-Weasel, as Malfoy had oh-so-affectionately called him, cast a _Muffliato_ around them to buzz the ears of listeners-in. The two fourth-years looked around, swatting at nonexistent bugs.

"I have a problem with it because, well, first of all, all he's ever done is insult us and spread his prejudice around-" Harry had to give a bit of a nod at this, "-and also, I think he's just using you to embarrass you later-" this had indeed crossed Harry's mind a fair few times in the last week, "-and then the Malfoys and the Weasleys have been fighting for _generations_, and you were _my_ friend first, and now he's trying to take you away from us!"

Okay, well, _that_ point was a little immature. "Ron, why can't I like _both_ of you? It's not impossible."

Ron shook his head, red hair flying everywhere. "No, it's not like that- we had you first and if the Malfoys get you then we'll be down one and I can't let that happen!"

Harry rose up off the bench- how _dare_ Ron? "What, so I'm some fucking token? You can just trade me around to see who's the best? You want to play king of the _fucking_ hill with the Malfoys, Ron?" Ron shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, but Harry cut him off. "No, you know what? I'm tired of this bullshit- I would have thought _you_, of all people, would let me be who I am and not just see me as a celebrity you can use to get popular- but I guess I was wrong, wasn't I?" His voice had gone deathly quiet, and he stared at Ron with such intensity that, in some detatched corner of his mind, he was surprised the boy didn't burst into flame. "Well, Ron, I guess that time is over, isn't it? No more using me for your bloody social stepping-stool. I honestly thought we were closer than that."

With that he stormed from the hall, not bothering to look at his best friend's stricken expression.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later in the day, there was to be found a fair young man drawing back curtains around his bed. He moved to drop a long, thin wand on his bedside cabinet when a blotch of color caught his eye. Resting on a pillow, its bright red contrasting vilely with the elegant green surroundings, lay a folded piece of paper. The boy leaned closer. Yes, he most certainly recognized the woodpecker.

The note passed his quick Sabotage Sensing Spell, and he could not think of a single person in the school who would know how to fold an origami woodpecker with such delicacy. That is, unless someone had deliberately imitated Potter to reach him?

Racking his mind for this foul creature, he came up with no-one- at least, he knew nobody in Slytherin who was both this intelligent _and_ had reason to harm him.

The boy kneeled onto his bedspread, reaching out and carefully unfolding the flailing bird. As he attempted to flatten it out, it slipped from under his fingers nearly succeeded in escaping. Alas, whatever the Gryffindors may claim, he had not been a Seeker for six years without skill. He snatched the bird and displayed its contents to the open air. Even in death, the page's corners fluttered defiantly. Undeniably Gryffindor. His lip curled in mild distaste.

_Sinistra's room 2 A.M.  
H._

Malfoy folded the letter between pale, aristocratic fingers. How, dare you ask, would fingers be labeled as aristocratic, of all things? Observe these hands and perhaps you would not be so quick to question true literature.

The young heir leaned carefully back against his plush bedding, listening as the green curtains were drawn around him to ward off the peons. His eyes traced delicate patterns swirling above the four-poster. He was indeed facing something of a dilemma.

On one hand, the prospect of more interactions with Potter was enticing, to say the least. He would look forward to those, without a doubt.

However, he had to consider the abruptness of the letter, with its rude assumptions of his guaranteed presence. Malfoys obeyed nae but themselves- how dare a Potter assume influence over one of his stature?

Alas, this was quite the dilemma indeed. Unless he could kill two doxies with one curse? Perhaps that was a possibility. Yes, yes, he would meet at Potter's request- and soothe his more... physical needs, but he would also use the opportunity to put the arrogant Gryffindor in his place: on his knees, praising all that is Malfoy. 

In the literal sense as well as the metaphorical.

The Slytherin poster-child smirked to himself, imagining the night's fruits to be gathered. This was not a dilemma, no; this was an opportunity.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nighttime found our favorite little hero in a tower classroom, sitting on a windowsill and staring at a door opposite him. Moonlight fell onto one side of his face, throwing it into a stark blue contrast with the shadows around him. His expression was one of utmost seriousness, and had it not been for his slight shifting, he would have given off the aura of a man who was utterly submerged in his businesslike state.

Harry checked his watch, thankful he'd had the presence of mind to look up a repairing charm in the library before meeting his boy to make sexy time. Or conversation. Malfoy wouldn't like it, but tonight was going to be a night of conversation.

The young Gryffindor started as the door in front of him opened. Speak of the devil! What a surprise!

Malfoy nodded in greeting as he closed the door behind him silently. He crossed his arms and watched Harry fidget, obviously waiting for him to set the boundaries for the night. How... gentlemanly.

However, as we all know by now, Harry truly was not one to be easily wooed. Well, honestly, he actually was, but no true man thinks of himself that way. "Erm... Malfoy, tonight… umm... I need to talk to you about something." Harry tried his most winning smile, hoping the blond would be more sympathetic than he had previously shown himself to be. What a fool.

The Slytherin stepped up to Harry, wrapping one hand around his waist and twisting his other around a lock of dark hair. "Are you saying that you don't want sex, you just want to talk?"

Harry nodded hopefully, trying to ignore the shivers dancing across his skin as the other boy's fingers moved lightly on his lower back.

Malfoy leaned in close, pressing his body up to Harry's, letting his lips touch the shell of Harry's ear. "You see, darling, there are a few reasons that I choose to consort with men over women- none of which include wandering the castle at two in the morning so I can have a heartfelt chat."

"No, you don't get it Malfoy. I don't have anyone else to talk to!" Harry leaned away and looked into the stormy eyes, trying to communicate some of his desperation through the stare.

Of course it didn't work. Malfoy sneered slightly, and Harry was reminded of all the times he had seen that expression mixed in with cruel comments and cutting insults.

"Why oh why can't you talk to your... _friends?_" He asked.

Harry looked at the ground sheepishly, wondering if this had really been a good idea. When he sent the letter he had been so emotional that he had just assumed Malfoy would do what was needed. Well, he couldn't very well turn back now. "They're, um, kind of the problem." Harry glanced back up without much hope of lenience.

Surprisingly enough, however, the Slytherin's face was lit with a mischievous smile. Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously, not sure if this was any better than anger.

The smile widened. "Oh, do tell, Potter! I would very much like to know exactly what has gone wrong in your golden friendship."

Harry eyed him carefully, but plowed on. "It's... ahh... actually about you."

Malfoy adopted a mock-sympathetic expression and tilted his head. "Ohhh, are the Weasel and..." He cleared his throat and smiled, "_Muggleborn_ giving you a hard time about bedding with me?"

Harry struggled fruitlessly to escape the tight embrace he was still locked in, but eventually gave up and set his forehead on the other's shoulder. He sighed.

"Kind of... I think Hermione's just worried or whatever, but Ron was being such a douchebag this morning!" He raised his head and looked into Malfoy's eyes once more, watching his expression. "He was acting like I was just something you trade around and fight for, you know, like 'The Malfoys and the Weasleys have been fighting for generations, and if he takes you from us than they'll be winning!' Can you believe that?"

Trying to suppress the smile still creeping over his features, Malfoy shook his head. "Oh, no, you poor thing! How _ever_ will you recover?"

Harry yanked himself out of the arms encircling him. "I'm completely serious, Malfoy, but if you're going to be a dick about it then... I'm sorry for waking you up for nothing. You can go back to bed."

The git laughed. Of all things to do. "I was only _joking,_ Potter! You really need to lighten up! Relax a bit!"

The Gryffindor rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Now isn't really the time for jokes, alright, Malfoy?"

Seemingly unabashed, Malfoy stepped up and wrapped his arms around Harry again. "Yes, of course darling. You have my most sincere apologies for my ill-placed humor."

Swatting the arms away, Harry turned and glared out the window. "I'm _serious,_ Malfoy! I'm here, trying to tell you about something that's completely fucking with my mind right now, and here you are making fun of me!" He could just _see_ Malfoy rolling his eyes.

"Fine, Potter, I'm sorry. There, are you happy?" When there was no answer, he continued. "Look, drama queen, sit down and tell me about it. Will that make you feel better?"

The brunette was silent for a little while longer, considering this, before nodding stiffly and seating himself at one of the desks. Malfoy walked behind him and placed his hands on Harry's shoulders.

"Now," he said, working his fingers into tense muscles, "let me soothe your troubled soul. Tell me what happened."

Harry crossed his arms. "I already did." He was already having to work at not just _melting_ under the skilled hands of his sexy-time lover. Who would have thought Malfoy could massage?

"Mmhmm," came the reply from somewhere behind him. "And how did that make you feel? What he said?" He specified.

"Well, umm..." The lack of sleep and the massage were wreaking havoc on Harry's ability to think. How _had_ that made him feel? It seemed pretty unimportant right now... "Could you repeat that?"

A chuckle drifted out of the darkness behind him. "I asked how what he said made you feel."

Oh, yes, that was it. "Aaahh, it... It made me feel... angry. Used." He tensed again at the thought.

"And how do you feel now?" The fingers moved lower, working between his shoulder blades. Reluctantly, Harry leaned forward to give them better access.

"Pshhh... Tired, I suppose." He closed his eyes.

"Anything else?"

Harry yawned, feeling the hands press lower and lower. "A little- oh, right there- umm... suspicious, I guess, but I don't really care. Ow!"

"You don't really care about what?" Malfoy ignored his protest. Soon, he was nothing more than a voice and hands again. Ron and Hermione were the far distant past, another lifetime.

"I suppose I don't care what your secret Slytherin plan is."

"And why not?" He could detect a smirk in that voice.

"Because it feels too good." Harry leaned forward and pillowed his head on his arms, smiling slightly.

"Would you like to know what would make you feel _so_ much better?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm too tired, Malfoy."

The blond leaned close and whispered in his ear. His hands were down by Harry's hips now, rubbing in small circles. "Oh, you won't have to do any of the work. This will be a treat specially for _you_."

Harry snorted softly. "I'm touched. Truly."

Now Malfoy's hands were under his shirt, soft and warm and firm. "So do you accept?"

The Gryffindor opened his eyes and peered owlishly at his counterpart. "I won't have to do any of the work?"

"Not an ounce."

A huge yawn shook Harry to the bones. "I think I'm too tired for even that, my love."

The blond leaned in and latched his teeth onto the smaller boy's ear. "Trust me- in a few moments, I'll have you forgetting your own name." His hands slipped under the back of Harry's jeans, sending a small shot of arousal through his body.

Reluctantly more awake, Harry sat up and checked his watch. "No, really," he ignored the squeezing farther down, "We should definitely get to bed. This was a bad idea, coming here."

One hand came around, working the button of Harry's jeans. He slapped it away. "No, Malfoy, really, I'm just too tired tonight."

"I don't believe you." The Slytherin's occupied hand inched farther down, towards his center, towards the most intimate part of his body. "You want this. More than you could ever admit."

Harry turned around to look Malfoy in the eye. "No, I don't want to go that far, I'm not-"

"You misunderstand me, Mr. Potter." The Slytherin said, laughing softly. "I haven't planned on _that_. Let me show you what I mean. He let his fingers press up against Harry's most sensitive spot, sending jolts of awareness through the brunette.

Unable to resist now, Harry sighed in defeat. "Fine. Fine. What do you want to do?"

Pulling his hands away, Malfoy motioned for the boy to rise. "Get on your hands and knees."

Eying the Slytherin suspiciously, Harry did as he was told.

The grey-eyed boy knelt down behind him, reaching around to undo his pants and pull them to his knees. Harry kept completely still, not sure what was coming next. When he felt the freshening charm wash over him, he had had enough.

Pulling his pants up, Harry turned to glare at Malfoy. "I said I didn't want to fuck! What part of 'no' don't you understand?"

The older boy held up his hand. "Calm yourself, dear child. I would never break a promise." He grinned mischievously. "I solemnly swear I will not cross your prudish Gryffindor boundaries."

Harry narrowed his eyes, but let his pants clothes fall again. "Fine," he turned back to his previous position, "but if you try and fuck me I'll slap you so hard you'll go cross-eyed for a year."

Malfoy laughed. "I'm sure you would, Potter. I'm sure you would. Now, you need to relax. You're awfully tense."

"I can't imagine why."

"I'm being completely honest. Take a few deep breaths. In..." Harry could hear him breathing in, "out..." He let out a trail of hot air across... oh god... so _that_ was how it was going to be, huh?

"You're not breathing with me," Malfoy reprimanded.

Harry inhaled deeply, and let it out in a startled cry as he felt something warm and wet touch him... _there_. Wow. It happened again, this time with more purpose.

Oh God.

Harry braced himself on the cold stone floor. He hadn't really even thought about this kind of thing before... but now, he couldn't imagine life without it.

Malfoy became more persistent- pressing harder and faster, reaching around towards Harry's front once more.

Harry pressed back against the pressure, marveling at the experience. This seemed so much more intimate than anything he had done before- not only with the actual action, but the fact that Malfoy was going out of his way to make Harry feel so _wonderful_. 

And, oh God, it was getting better, and it was warm and wet and soft and firm all at the same time, and now it was inside him, and Harry moaned at the feeling. He felt a twinge of embarrassment at the situation, but that passed quickly as Malfoy started to go faster.

And now Harry was moaning again and moving and writhing and Malfoy had to use his free hand to hold Harry still so they could continue, and it was like nothing Harry had ever experienced before, and he was bucking backwards and forwards and backwards again, trying to get all of the sensation he could, and Malfoy's hand was moving faster and faster and faster and Harry felt his mind go blank, his world was white as he came, the only thing in the world was the intense pleasure making his muscles clench up and his head was thrown back and he yelled out, his eyes wide open and seeing nothing, thinking nothing.

He _felt_ more than heard Malfoy sit back, and knew there would be a smug smile on his face when Harry turned around. Regardless, he faced sexy-time friend, panting. Yep, there it was. Smug as all get out. 

Harry quietly lowered himself into a sitting position on the floor, wincing as the cold stone hit his skin.

Looking away from Malfoy's face, Harry let out a breath. Wow. That had been... quite an experience. He stared into space for a while, slowly drifting away from the world, thinking of nothing in particular. What wouldn't he give to fall asleep right now?

Much too soon, Harry was jolted back to awareness with a sharp slap to the arm. _"What?_"

"Have you heard a word I've said?" Malfoy said irritatedly.

"No."

"Fine. I guess you don't want my advice." The blond started to rise.

"No, wait! I'm sorry, what were you saying?" Harry flashed an apologetic smile.

Malfoy stood and crossed his arms, looking down at Harry. Feeling vulnerable, Harry quickly pulled his pants up, hiding the Dream Team from view. He glanced back at Malfoy, who's Team was obviously pretty eager to engage in their own death-defying battle. "Do you want me to take care of that for you?" He asked with a lazy smile, nodding towards the bulge.

Malfoy didn't smile. "No." He started to walk away.

"Wait!" Harry struggled to his feet and hurried after the agitated Slytherin, frowning. This was _not_ how he liked to spend his post-coital bliss, thanks. "What did I do? I'm sorry, okay?"

Malfoy chuckled. "Don't worry, Potter, you didn't do anything. I just need to be getting back to the dorms is all."

Still not sure if he had done anything wrong, Harry cautiously stepped in front of Malfoy and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Umm... well, anyways, thank you. That was incredible."

Smiling, Malfoy gave a little shrug. "You owe me." He pushed past Harry and opened the door. Pausing, he turned around. "And tell Weasley that he needs to learn how to share."

Harry walked down a hall looking for the room where he was to pick up new comic book issues from a little first year boy by the name of Fipleek Squarler. Just out of curiosity of course…Harry didn't read comic books… they were for kids.

Thankfully, young Fipleek was trustworthy.

Now, he really needed to work on remembering these sorts of things like room numbers… It was highly inconvenient to forget them like this.

He peered through one rather dilapidated door, being careful to raise one eyebrow smoothly so he looked as handsome as possible in the contrasting light of little-used hallway. He was quite surprised at what he saw.

Hermione, Crookshanks, and Ron sat together in the room, the two humans whispering frantically and pouring dollops of pond weeds and intestines into a cauldron on a burner.

The whispering was a distraction, so Harry pulled out his handy-dandy Extendable Ear (courtesy of the Weasley twins) and slid it under the door carefully. Quick flip of the muscular wrist and it was within good hearing range.

Ron uttered the first vile voiced concoction of a phrase, "I hope to see the pasty slash slitherer withered as a naked slug to a slab of wood after this."

Hermione breathed a laugh, "And in the shape of a cross, please. Martyred for the right of all things vile and bastardly."

"_Douche._ Douche, all things resembling a douche. Or acting like a douche." Ron retorted, he looked severely troubled to Harry. Damn and double damn. He knew that look—it was been present whenever Ron argued with him. It was the pained grumpy expression that said "I am not happy at all. Won't someone put me out of my misery?"

Deciding that his friends would let him in on the secret in their own good time, Harry turned and continued his search for The Fippster.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

And curtains laced with diamonds dear for you  
And all the Roman Noblemen for you  
And kingdom's Christian Soldiers dear for you  
And melting ice cap mountain tops for you  
And knights in flaming silver robes for you  
And bats that with a kiss turn prince for you

Don't think I'd let any other man have you though.

Tonight.

Harry clasped the note in his hands-- quivering all over on the red velvet bed. It was in the slender script of Malfoy.

He murmured the lines to himself and collapsed on the bed yet again.

Malfoy had actually been here last night. He wondered if Malfoy had stopped to watch him sleep. The thought made him tingle.

He hoped he hadn't done anything embarrassing.

This night had to come sooner than it usually did. Harry was _so_ ready to go find a time changing spell. _'I'll go ask Hermione. Oh. Yeah.'_ He remembered. _'She and Ron are kind of... But Hermione's smart and clear-headed, she would listen to me, right? Right.' _Taking a deep breath, Harry focused his mind on more pleasant matters.

He looked back at the note proudly.

So soon, yet Malfoy was moving beyond two-word messages to full verses of the Velvet Underground. The snakish-sexor boy was much more imaginative than Harry could have hoped for. This sent Harry into another full-fledged fantasy of Malfoy- the incredibly adventurous poetic majesty, not the nightly fuck-buddy of the demanding sort. 

 

Hermione was standing with her back to a huge flatulent statue (the kind of flatulent that has to do with excessive gas). She of course, had her back bullet straight and her eyes were pointing in multiple directions, waiting for Ron. She was feeling the need for him to butter her scone, so to speak, which may have been a contributing factor to the black lingerie hidden underneath her garments.

He came up the floating staircase with ease, walking to her and wrapping her in his arms. She was so excited she let go of her weight and he had to hold her drooping figure. Kind of heavy.

"Hermione," he whispered, she remained limp, "Hermione!" He said more sternly. 

She straightened up. "Sorry, I got a little carried away." She muttered.

Poor girl. That kind of thing does happen.

**Ahh, another chapter finished and done with.**

**Do tell, how was it for you?**


	6. He Really Does Love Quidditch

**Hello, everyone! How wonderful it is to see all your happy little faces once more! We're sorry about the delayed update- what with Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows coming out and all. You know how it gets; I was a little distracted by reading the BEST BOOK EVER. Ever. I think I may have a new favorite character… Neville was so bomb! But then, so was Mrs. Weasley…**

**Ahh, there's nothing like a new Harry Potter book to ease my worries.**

**But… They're OVER! What are we going to do? What will happen to the hordes of fangirls, lost in the world without their foxy, bespectacled savior to anchor them?**

**And how the hell could she come up with the name Hugo?**

**But, if I say so myself, Scorpius is a pretty gangsta name.**

**Okay, enough of that. On with the story!**

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This was an unhappy boy.A _very_ unhappy boy.

A very unhappy _Irish_ boy, and you just know what happens when Irish people are unhappy.

There be heads a-rollin'.

And given the rather advanced state of this Irish boy's unhappiness, I feel confident in saying that if he didn't get what he wanted... then... damn, well there wouldn't be much hope for any nearby prospective neck models.

'Cause necks will get a-chopped.

However, there was one head that could, _possibly,_ save the necks surrounding, and thus vicariously -1- saving a large portion of the future of the neck modeling business. We can only pray.

That head, that beautiful, shaggy, bespectacled head was currently attempting hide behind a rather thick issue of "Spiderman."

Not for long.

"Enough is enough, you little turd. Your time has come."

Harry pulled the magazine higher over his face, hoping to delay the encounter as much as possible.

"That's not going to work. Budge up."

Harry didn't move from his position on the bed. In front of his face swung Spiderman, saving Mary Jane from certain death. Seamus could hear the pages shaking in Harry's fear.

_"Now"_

Truth be told, Harry was no longer quite the brave Gryffindor he once was. I mean, he did his job, right? And being brave had gotten him into enough trouble for him to... well... say 'fuck that' and have a nice lie down. Even the dumbest, bravest, most stubborn Gryffindors have limits. And damn, Harry had passed his long ago.-2-

"Potter!"

Slowly, oh so slowly, Harry lowered his magazine, peering over at Seamus. "...Yes?" He asked, feigning nonchalance.

"Make room for me on this bed or so help me Merlin I will slap your face."

Well then. There's no use in disobeying such a direct order, am I right? Seamus sat down crosslegged where Harry's feet had previously (and very comfortably, thanks) rested. 

The sandy-haired young man drew closed the curtains around their bed. He leaned forward and whispered conspirationally, "So what's going on between you and Ron and Hermione?"

Harry crossed his arms. "Nothing."

Foxy eyebrows rose to greet the sun. "Don't you tell me there's nothing going on. You promised you wouldn't keep this secret from me."

_'Use closed body language, Harry, that way he'll see that you don't want to talk about it and leave you alone.'_ Harry thought to himself. He pursed his lips and looked over Seamus's head. "We're just fighting. You know how we get; you hang out with people for too long and they get on your nerves, you know?"

"Yes, of course, but what were you fighting _about_?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "That's private."

A smile that would have suited a panther crept onto the Irishman's face. He raised his voice. "If you don't tell me what's going on I'll tell the whole school about that time I caught you jacking off to your Firebolt."

Spiderman went flying as Harry flung back the curtains of his bed, searching the room for possible eavesdroppers. Seeing none, he ripped the curtains closed and cast a Silencing Charm around the duo. "You swore you wouldn't tell anyone about that! You swore it to me!" He whispered desperately.

Seamus's smile, if anything, grew wider. "That was before you started keeping secrets from me."

Casting around for a defense, Harry said, "If you spread that around then I'll tell everyone that you know every word to every single Journey song ever written."

Oh, what now, bitches? There's no trick Seamus could have up his sleeve to beat that.

That Irish git caressed Harry's face tenderly, the panther smile never leaving. "I'm not ashamed of my love for Journey, Harry." He said as his hand was swatted away.

"Oh yeah?" Harry said. "I'll tell them all that you stalked the band members the entire summer between fifth and sixth years." Aha! Who had the upper hand now?

Apparently Seamus still thought he did. "You have no proof."

"Neither do you!"

"Darling, that's where you're wrong." With an absolutely menacing grin, the blond reached into his sleeve and pulled out a square of paper. He looked at it as one would a lover, before handing it to Harry.

Oh Lordy.

There was Harry-

And his gorgeous, wonderful, beautiful, beloved broomstick-

Oh, _Lordy_.

Harry looked up from the moving photograph, mortified. "How did you get this?!? How did you take this picture?! Have you shown anyone? You can't show anyone, you promised! Have you shown-"

"_No_, Harry, I haven't shown anyone, calm the fuck down!" Seamus snapped, snatching the photo back and stroking it with his fingertips. "If I had shown someone, how would this be blackmail?"

Harry couldn't tear his eyes from the small square of paper. "But how did you _take_ it? I would have noticed-"

"Harry, Harry, Harry, you sweet, ignorant child! I've been stalking Journey for ages, do you really think that I didn't know about hidden cameras? Seriously?" He smiled at Harry like he was explaining two plus two equals four to an overemotional toddler.

Oh Hells to the no. "WHAT? You've got a hidden camera in my BED? How much have you seen? How could you do this to me?" He whipped around, searching for a minuscule lens, a hidden cord, anything, but it could be invisible-

"Why would you put a camera in your friend's BED? What the Hell is wrong with you? What made you think-" Harry was cut off as Seamus grabbed his head and made him turn. He held onto Harry's cheeks, smushing his face up as he forced the poor young child to stare into his deep brown eyes.

"You stupid twerp, of _course_ I didn't put a camera in your bed! I have at least _some_ sense of privacy!" Harry rolled his eyes. "If you must know, I had a camera implanted in my cornea years ago, in case of emergencies like that."

The hand holding the Firebolt picture was pressed up against the side of Harry's face. He could see movement out of the corner of his eye.

His gaze was drawn back to Seamus as the blond started to speak. "Now, what are you and your friends fighting about? Remember, not only did you promise to tell me, but also you owe me for the hair job I gave you."

Harry's fingers itched to snatch the picture out of Seamus's hands, but even if he was quick enough, he was sure the other Gryffindor had copies somewhere. He was probably keeping them for other nefarious purposes. And if he grabbed the photo, surely that would anger Seamus. And an angry Seamus was a vengeful Seamus. If Harry didn't play his cards right, by tomorrow every ghost, teacher and child in the school would have seen that photo. Yes, it was dirty, but so was the Irishman.

Really, what choice did Harry have?

Breathing deeply, for what he felt was the last time, Harry took the plunge.

"They're mad at me because... I'm fucking Malfoy." He closed his eyes.

There was silence.

Then-

"_Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?_ You're fucking _Draco Malfoy?_ Oh my God, wait until I tell Dean!" Harry's eyes snapped open.

"No, Seamus, you can't tell anyone-!"

"Oh, and Lavender and Pavarti, and Hannah and Terry and Luna and _Pansy! _I bet Parkinson's not happy about this, is she?" The boy looked like Christmas had come early.

Harry shook his head violently. "No, she doesn't, she can't, we don't want anyone to know yet-"

But Seamus just clapped his hands together and burbled on. "Oh, you're a 'we' already? That means you have to have a name! Let me think, let me think..." He leaned his chin on a hand and gazed raptly at Harry, who was growing rapidly more uncomfortable.

"Listen, Seamus-" He tried to interject, but-

"Shut up, Harry! You know not to interrupt me when I'm having a brain wave! Let me think! You could be... Drarry, but _ugh_, who would ever use that? -3- Or you could be Haco, but that makes you sound Japanese, and you're not Japanese, are you? No, you're not." He continued, not waiting for an answer. "If we use last names you could be Potfoy, or Dracter, or Harfoy or Potco, oh Potco could work... yes, that's an option..."

"No, please, you can't tell anyone about this-"

"Shut up or I'll call you Malfter! No, you could be Dratter, or Harrco- Hairco! You could be Hairco! And you could be symbols, _icons_ even of good hair styling, leading the school out of the Dark Ages into the light that is good hair st-"

"No, Seamus stop!" Seamus halted in his speech, raising up indignantly- "You don't understand! You can't tell anyone about this! See, Hermione's worried about me because she thinks he'll hurt me, and Ron's being a dick because he thinks that by me fucking Malfoy, that family is winning in this twisted little feud they've got going, and he thinks that he can use me as _money, _as some token so he can get _power_, and it's such bullshit and if that's just my two best friends then what will the _whole school_ do and it'll be like fifth year all over again, only _worse_! And for Malfoy too! Please!" He fell silent, staring beseechingly into Seamus's eyes.

The Irishman looked down and picked with the fraying hem of his pants. Harry wanted to believe he was ashamed, but he knew better. He was plotting.

Seamus looked up and sighed. "Alright." He said quietly.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Alright what?"

"Alright, I won't tell anyone about you fucking Malfoy..." He left the sentence hanging.

"...If?" Harry asked.

The panther smile was back, creeping across Seamus's face and gripping Harry's nerves. _"If?"_ He prompted again.

"If..." Seamus held up the picture again. "I can show this to one person."

Harry sat back, feeling like he had just been doused in a bucked of hot water. Immediately he started sweating. "No, you promised you wouldn't-"

"I can do anything I want."

"That person will just show everyone else, so it won't matter that you only showed it to one person-"

"I assure you," Seamus smirked, "they will be very discreet. They have as much to watch out for as you do, I give you my word."

"Nobody can see that!" Harry cried, trying to snatch the photo from the other boy's hands. "Nobody can find out!"

Seamus kept Harry off of the picture, but his smile was gone. "Would you rather me post it up all over the school, because I _could_ do that. I'm trying to be nice to you here, I'm trying to make a bargain."

Laying sprawled across his friend, hand still outstretched for the photo, Harry really didn't see a choice. The blond had the upper hand, completely. What was it with blonds and fights that Harry always seemed to lose? Good thing Voldemort had been bald, or else we'd all be fucked.

The brunette sat back and tugged at his collar; the room was getting awfully warm. What could he do to prevent this? _'Nothing.'_ "Who will you show it to?" He asked, attempting to delay the moment in which he would be forced to acquiesce.

Seamus waved the picture in front of Harry, who in turn eyed it as if it would jump out of the boy's hand and attack him. "That is for me to know, my dear child," Seamus smirked, "and for you to find out."

"I suppose I don't really have a choice, do I?" Harry said, defeated.

Seamus paused. "Is that a yes?"

Harry sighed. "Yes."

"Lovely."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Malfoy scoured the halls with his intelligent eyes. Yes- he was on a quest. He smirked at himself, appreciating his frequent visits to the lesser used corridors. He had always delighted in the complicated goals he made for himself daily. At the same moment, he took notice of the waterfall of light casting golden glitter on his footpath. _'Beautiful,'_ he thought to himself, just the light he'd like to have Harry Potter bathed under; right before he fucked him.

A snarl entwined his face.

Potter _really_ should be more _appreciative_ of Malfoy's busy schedule; not everyone got as much attention from him as the Gryffindor…actually no other person did. The thin boy wrapped his hands into sharp mallets and scowled. '_No one should take this much of my mind space! Damn you Potter!' _ He thought to himself.

Deep in his mink-lined pocket, he had folded a note, and now pulled it out to study. You may be thinking 'The Note--the next note from Harry!' You would be wrong. Contrary to the religion of common mushy folk, Malfoy did not carry around his love letters to caress dreamily in the halls before class; he carried purely important items. Today he read a correspondence of Lovegood's. He had transcribed it with his sharp white quill pen onto a piece of gold encrusted parchment; his equivalent of a sticky note.

What he encountered next was no less than his worst nightmare.

There came a bend and between two arched columns he felt a -plop.-

Reaching up, he felt a large dollop of something with a melted creamcheese consistency. 

"CURSE THE BLOODY WORLD OF WORMS!" He cried, leaping to the side in an utterly undignified manner.

From the heavens he heard a girl's voice reminiscent of an OxiCodon addict, "Draco. Malfoy…" the girl's melody wafted slowly down to him.

"Luna. Lovegood…" He imitated. "I thought I might find you here. I didn't expect to be shat upon when I approached you, however." He was staring up at a blonde girl--about the same complexion as he but several times removed from his esteemed rank of Slytherine pride.

"I often like turn the dust balls up here into dollops of vanilla pudding to eat when I am bored," her eyes glazed over in recollection.

Malfoy reexamined the cream he had gotten on his surgeon hand and corrupted head, "Vanilla, you say?" He gladly sniffed it… the consistency strangely reminded him of something; he couldn't quite place what. 

"That is why you've come here, isn't it?" Luna sang, with her all knowing gaze off into a rafter.

"No. I have not come to get a recipe of vanilla pudding from you, Loon—Lovegood."

She giggled, "_Your_ vanilla. This is about Harry."

Suddenly Malfoy felt rather behind the times on slang- he had to ask himself if the term "vanilla" was really so commonly used by white girls. He had thought he'd known… "I need something. From you, and no this isn't about _Harry._"

Her eyes twinkled with a smile, "You look quite disturbed. Don't be, I hear all sorts of things; and I am glad to do what you came here for."

"Well, get down here. I would like to do this quickly, if at all possible."

Lovegood swung down slowly and sat in front of him; licking her lips. Her legs crisscrossed, and hair pulled back.

"I want a present. We need to be quiet, as you should know."

"No one can hear, I get it. This is a secret." She stage-whispered.

"I assume you are good at keeping secrets?" He clutched his wand in his pocket threateningly.

She nodded; it was ridiculous for anyone to even think of her breaking confidences.

He tilted up his head, so his bare neck shone like marble in the morning light, and began. "I like a fire-lit, 'Venus in Furs' sort-of setting, white candle wax dripping off his leg. Completely nude, obviously." As he had been gazing off wistfully, he suddenly pierced her with his interrogating eyes, "And you must not tell this to _anyone_."

"Are you to be in it?" She was staring intently at his wrist while massaging her own. He attempted to ignore her strange ways, but subtly flicked his arm so his sleeve fell down to cover the violated area.

"No." He said quickly. "Just him. And, Lovegood, spy upon him _only in the public areas_ for the next couple days, I want this to be as close to him as possible, down to a buttered roll he might eat, resting upon a table beside him."

Malfoy could tell that her mind was working out glorious ideas as her protuberant eyes pointed far off into space. He felt quite pleased with himself and _Scourgify_'d his platinum hair with satisfaction.

He licked his lips at the thoughts running through his head. A perfect novelty to add to his collection.

"That will be all."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry dropped his tome onto a spindly-legged table near the library window, the resulting bang earning him a warning glare from Madam Pince. Stupid old vulture. He covered his hand in his sleeve and wiped the leather cover free of dust. _'Troubleshooting Transfiguration for the Talentless' by Jen D. R. Bender_. Fascinating stuff.

Quill in hand, Harry heaved the cover open, and jumped when he heard a voice. Wierd. Glancing around, he saw that his portion of the library was essentially empty. Turning back to the book, he could see the center crook moving like a mouth. "Transfiguration without concentration is like a fish without water!" It wheezed. "A wizard is only as good as his wandwork!" Oh God, not another one of these. Harry'd thought he was rid of this when he burned Hermione's homework planner- all he needed was another talking book.

"_Silencio,_" he hissed, making sure Madam Pince didn't see him cursing one of her treasured volumes. The wheezing stopped (though the center crook continued its attempt at speech) and he flipped through the pages to the chapter he needed- "Human Transfiguration, Risks and Rewards."

Scrutinizing the tiny text, Harry swore. Silently, of course. Trust McGonagall to suggest the most technical book in the library. Stupid teachers assigning too much stupid homework. Stupid McGonagall. Stupid Flitwick. Stupid Sprout, stupid Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, whatever his name was (Harry had learned by now that he needn't bother with getting to know the teachers of that subject, as they all were gone by the spring, anyways.) Stupid Sinistra and stupid Snape.

Stupid Snape. That git sucked. Straight up.

Harry was jolted out of his thoughts by another voice, this time much more familiar. "Don't you have anything better to do with your time than just... stare off into space?" Harry turned to Malfoy, frowning.

"I thought you wanted to keep this thing a secret," he muttered.

Malfoy looked confused. "What does that have to do with anything?" He asked.

Gesturing discreetly around the room, Harry said, "Meeting eachother in a crowded library when we're supposed to hate one another isn't very... inconspicuous."

Malfoy turned and surveyed the room, arms crossed over his foxy chest. A group of sixth years was whispering and glancing up at the duo, but other than that, not much notice was being taken of them. He turned back to Harry.

"We haven't fought publicly for a while now; maybe our reputation has faded." He said.

Harry looked for a minute at the sixth years; one stared defiantly back. "Do you _want_ to take this out into the open?" He asked.

The blond considered him for a moment before taking a seat on the other side of the rickety table. "Not particularly." He leaned forwards, eyebrows raised. "Do you?"

"Umm, not really, I was just asking to-" Malfoy cut him off.

"Good. That's settled, then." He said, leaning back in the armchair. "And that is not the reason I came here."

"I know. You came to take a gander at my gorgeous body. Well, drink it in, it's all yours!" Harry grinned and opened his arms wide. Malfoy's lip curled.

"No, you dimwit, I didn't walk all the way up here to-" he stopped and shivered, "I'm not even going to _say_ that word. I don't know what made you think speaking like that is appropriate around me. I came here because I have obtained... well, you'll just have to see, won't you?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What did you 'obtain?'"

Malfoy smiled. "Come with me and you'll find out."

"Because leaving the library together won't be suspicious at _all_, right?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"Right."

The book let out feeble wheeze, trying to throw off the charm.

Harry blinked. "I was being sarcastic, if you didn't catch-"

Malfoy interrupted him again. "I know full well you were being sarcastic, but I'm right and you're wrong- it won't be suspicious if we get kicked out."

Reaching over and tapping Malfoy's nose, Harry grinned and said, "Well aren't _you_ the little trouble-maker!"

The Slytherin didn't move, except for a muscle working in his jaw. "I swear to Pusseliah, if you do that again I'll slit your throat." He forced out, his lips hardly moving. Harry held up his hands.

"Wow, touchy. _Someone's _got a stick up his ass! I'm not even going to ask what Pusseliah is. How do you want us kicked out?" He smirked.

Malfoy glared at him. "Pusseliah is the Greek goddess of fear and worship. And we'll get kicked out if we start a fight." 

"About what?" Harry asked.

"It doesn't matter."

Flashing a grin, Harry stood up. "Fuck you, Malfoy!" He yelled, pulling out his wand. The blond rose as well, slowly drawing his own. "How many times do I have to tell you _never_ to talk about my family?"

Sneering, Malfoy tapped his wand against Harry's own as Madam Pince shuffled up to them, screeching. "Tell me, Potter, why do you care about them so much if they're _dead_? They're not here to see your loyalty-"

"NOISE! DISRUPTION! GET OUT OF MY LIBRARY! NOW! GET GET GET!" Yowled the librarian, smacking them both with her feather duster. Harry quickly shoved his papers back into his bag as his counterpart brushed down his robes irritatedly. Malfoy pushed roughly past Harry in their hurry towards the exit. The Gryffindor looked back over his shoulder to see Madam Pince caressing the wheezing book against her sagging features, murmuring words of comfort.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry walked through the doorway, arms outstretched. "Will you let me see now?" He asked. He wasn't really sure if he should be scared or not.

The hands covering his eyes lifted, revealing a small, disused classroom. Evening sunlight filtered through the grime-covered windows, reflecting off a slim, smooth, polished-

Broomstick. A Firebolt, more specifically.

_Harry's_ Firebolt.

He turned to Malfoy, frowning. "What's the meaning of-" Then he saw what the other man-boy was holding up. A picture... a very familiar picture.

Harry felt the blood drain from his face. "So he- he gave that to... to you, did he?" He asked, watching the photo move.

Malfoy smirked. "Obviously."

The gleam of the broomstick winked as Harry turn back to face it. He swallowed. "So... what do you want?"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Ohh, I'm sorry. I couldn't help it! You know how authors get, we want to keep you wondering! But don't you fret! The next chapter will answer many questions, and will surely be updated much sooner than this one. I do hope you enjoyed it!**

**Please, please, please review? I'll send you a copy of the picture.**

-1- I learned that word from the "Mr. Hankey the Christmas Poo" song- and aren't I proud?  
-2- That wonderful little paragraph is giving you a peek into my next story!  
-3- Seriously.


	7. In Which The Weasel And His Bitch Reign

**We're back! Please don't hate us for being gone so long! It was all SKA's fault, Roboclaw kept reminding her to write and SKA kept saying "I will tonight! I will tonight!"**

**Alas, she never did.**

**Until now!**

**You've waited long enough- on with the story!**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_In our last episode…_

_The gleam of the broomstick winked as Harry turn back to face it. He swallowed. "So... what do you want?"_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The smirk widened. "I want you to think..." He leaned slightly towards Harry. "I want you to think of the dirtiest, sexiest, most fabulous use you could put that to." He gestured to the Firebolt.

Harry stared into the grey eyes, knowing _exactly_ what the other boy was thinking. Well, now, he was most certainly not about to partake in that particular activity was he? "Erm... I don't know..." He tried to delay the inevitable. "Do... what I was doing... in the picture?"

The blond slipped the photo into his back pocket before reaching out and embracing Harry. His chest pressed warmly against Harry's back, facing Harry to the broom. The Gryffindor once again noticed the way the light was refracted off its sleek form. Had it been polished? Lord, but that was a beautiful sight...

Malfoy brought him out of his blissful reverie by placing his chin on Harry's shoulder and whispering, "Think of something dirtier."

Harry swallowed. He _wouldn't_ say it. Playing dumb surely wouldn't work, but it was his only hope. "What? What are you thinking?" Malfoy's arms tightened around him, urging him on. "...You want me to... lick it? Like, _lick_ it?" He felt more than say the blond head shake. Soft hairs tickled the side of his neck.

Bloody Hell, it was hopeless. "I'm not going to say what you want me to say, because I'm not going to do - _that_. No matter how much you beg, or threaten." Harry said, crossing his arms stubbornly.

The Slytherin released him and walked around so the two were face to face. He leaned in and placed his soft hands on Harry's cheeks. Harry glared out the window. "I want you to stay right in this room, Potter, and think about what you just said. I understand that you're a... hmm... a _virgin_, so I'll go easy-"

"I'm not a virgin!" Harry's eyes snapped back to Malfoy. The git ignored him.

"-on you and give you some time to think about what this means and how this is going to change our relationship and all that other crap that you people apparently _need_ to-"

"_You people?_ What's that supposed to mean?"

"-consider before you do anything _fun_. _So._" He patted Harry on the cheek and grinned in a mockery of good intentions. "I'll let you sort yourself out. Don't leave this room." Malfoy headed around the stunned boy and headed toward the door. As he reached for the handle, Harry found his voice.

"I'm not thinking this is such a good idea. I'd rather... lose…_ It_, you know," Malfoy rolled his eyes,"to a person before a broomstick."

Malfoy turned around, grinning so wide it must have hurt. "Oh, don't worry about that. You will."

Confused, Harry asked, "Wait, I will to which one- a person or-" But the door had already closed.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

He tried not to grin like such an undignified plebeian. He tried his darnedest, he really did- but his amusement was far too great. Potter's pliability was astounding. Malfoy had never met anyone so easy to manipulate! Well, perhaps Parkinson, but honestly, did she even count as a person? Not really. Not at all, actually. Malfoy shook his head and attempted again to school his features into their customary aristocratic mask. It didn't work. He chuckled ruefully and set off down the corridor, reveling in the genius that was himself.

Rounding a corner, the young heir spotted a short staircase ahead of him. His legs ached, _yearned_ even, to sprint off and jump into an astounding crash at the bottom. Alas, no Malfoy could degrade himself to such a childish act.

Oh, if Father could see him now, straining not to leap down a staircase! Alas, Father was in Azkaban. Malfoy's grin faded. His piercing eyes surveyed his surroundings. Grey walls, grey ceilings, floors; was this what Azkaban was like? Malfoy doubted it. Azkaban wouldn't have these disgustingly pungent suits of armor. He scoffed. What true Malfoy would get himself thrown in prison? Father had failed his name, and left his son the task of dragging it out of the dirt.

The Slytherin sped up his pace. Now was not the time to pollute his thoughts with such dreary ponderings- he was off to the kitchens! Images of Potter sprawled out with chocolate sauce and strawberries covering his chest swam in front of Malfoy's eyes. His mouth would have watered if he was a lesser man. However, he was not, so his mouth stayed dry. Perhaps if he saved the broomstick for later-

A door to his right slammed open, causing Malfoy to jump and reach for his wand. "_Silencio!_" shouted a familiar voice from inside the room. Muted, Malfoy backed up slightly to see the man coming towards him. Weasley! Malfoy brought his arm up to land a smart backhand on the disgusting peon, but he was tackled to the floor. Fabulous. Now his robes would smell like poverty! He could never wear them again! He struggled fruitlessly against Weasley's grip, only to see that frizzy-haired know-it-all Granger loom over him like some twisted impersonation of a guardian angel.

She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ronald." Malfoy's eyes widened as she pointed her wand to his face. He tried to extract his arm from the Weasel's grip, but the homeless boy's grip was too tight. _'This has to be a joke,'_ he thought as his world went black.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Hazy grey and orange swam before his eyes. A dull, throbbing pain pulsed in the back of his skull. He tried to push himself into a sitting position, but found his hands roped together. All traces of grogginess fled instantly. He sat bolt upright and stared at the people towering over him. Granger lowered her wand to her side and turned to a desk tucked in the corner of the room. On the desk sat a miniature cauldron, reddish foam frothing over the edges. It seemed to be boiling, but the Slytherin could spot no flame under the iron base. Keeping a wary eye on Granger as she ran her eyes over an open book, Malfoy turned his attention to the Weasel crouching in front of him. His eyes narrowed.

"Well, hello there, Malfoy." The Weasel grinned. Malfoy tried to scoff, but no sound came out. Ah, yes. The Silencing Charm. Weasley laughed. Malfoy spit in his face. That shut the little shit up. Weasel reared back, lifting and hand to hit Draco, but was stopped by Granger's grip on his fist.

"Ron! Don't you dare hit him! He's tied up! You can't hit someone who's defenseless!"

"But 'Mione," Weasley raged, "he spit-"

"I don't care if he bloody _kicked_ you, I will not allow you to harm a defenseless man! He can't even _talk!_" She reprimanded. Weasley still looked mutinous. Draco smirked and raised his eyebrows at the Weasel. Seeing this, Granger leaned in and hissed something into her boyfriend's ear. The ginger looked down at Draco and smiled in a way that made the Slytherin feel most uncomfortable. Even more uncomfortable than, say, sitting _bound_ like some _commoner_ on the cold, dusty stone floor of a castle.

Weasley reached into his pocket and drew out a wand- Malfoy's wand. He waved it up and down and watched Draco's eyes follow it. "Don't you worry about this, Malfoy. We're taking good care of it." Good Lord, Malfoy could see the grimy fingerprints from where he was sitting! As soon as he got that wand back, he was taking it to his room and polishing it like it had never been polished before! He sneered and glared at Weasley. Grinning, the bastard re-pocketed Draco's wand.

"Ron, it's ready."

The ginger turned to Granger and asked, for what was most likely the millionth time, "But why can't we just _Stupefy_ him for it? Or at least paralyze him?"

Granger rolled her eyes. "Like I've said at least a million times-" Ha! Draco was right! "The potion is most effective when it is taken willingly, and this is about the closest we could get to willing participation as possible." Malfoy emphasized her point by struggling more against his bonds. The rough cords chafed and tightened.

The Weasel sighed and walked around to kneel behind Malfoy. Draco tried to scoot away from him, but the git once more wrapped his arms around Malfoy's chest, trapping his arms. Draco struggled, pushing against the floor with his bound feet and throwing his weight from left to right, but the plebeian really was quite strong. Malfoy had thought that not being able to buy food would have prevented proper muscle growth. Apparently he'd been wrong.

Over in the corner, Granger stuck what looked like a giant eye-dropper into the potion, sucking out a generous amount. Was that... no. She was _not_ holding a fucking turkey baster! Disgusting! Malfoy was not a turkey! Malfoy was a man, baby! Holding a hand under the baster to catch any leaks, Granger made her way over to the pair. She glanced at Weasley. "Ron, hold his nose so he has to open his mouth."

Draco thrashed as best he could, but the Weasel was too quick. Two smelly fingers clamped over his nose. Well, Draco was sure they would be smelly if he could actually smell them. At the moment that was not an option. Draco brought his bound hands up to pry at the fingers, but Granger whipped out her wand and clipped out a spell that linked the ropes on his wrist to those on his waist. She jammed the baster between his lips and sealed her hand over it, but he kept his teeth firmly closed and his tongue locked in place to prevent the potion from getting down his throat. Unfortunately, this also prevented any air from reaching his lungs, and they were starting to burn rather annoyingly. Draco was struck with the sudden image of himself just minutes from now, blue and lifeless. He crushed his eyes shut and struggled more.

Granger squeezed, and a small amount of liquid seeped under his tongue. His eyes were starting to water with the effort of not gasping for air. Struggling against Weasley was taking up all of his oxygen. "Shit, Malfoy, it's not _poison_," The Weasel huffed. Some tiny bit of satisfaction shone for Draco underneath the desperation; at least the bastard was having a hell of a time holding on to him.

Granger attempted to pry his jaw open, without success. He tried to throw his head to the side, but Weasley's hand prevented any major movement. His lungs felt like they were bursting and collapsing at the same time.

Draco tried to sneak some air in by lowering one side of his tongue, but Granger noticed and emptied practically the entire fucking _Nile's_ worth of meat-flavored potion down his throat and into his lungs. Mostly into his lungs. He spluttered and choked and coughed, potion spraying everywhere (thankfully a fair amount found its way onto his captors), but the deed was done. He had definitely swallowed enough of the disgusting concoction. He could feel it burning its way down his throat. He panted heavily and spat on the ground. The Slytherin attempted to chomp the hand attached to his nose, but it retreated too quickly.

Weasley detangled himself from Draco and stood up, not bothering to dust himself off. Pleb. Malfoy glared up at him and spat again, this time at the ginger's feet. Fuck proprieties, he could spit all he wanted. He was dying. At this very moment, poison was seeping its way into his veins, aiming straight for his heart- or perhaps his brain… Concentrating on the burning sensation in his stomach, Draco tried to deduce just what the poison was doing. He knew it wouldn't work, but he couldn't just… _not know_ how he was going to _die_!

Granger tossed the turkey baster onto the table and turned back to face Draco. "We need to test it now." She said, pulling out her wand and pointing it at the prone boy. Draco tensed up, expecting a painful curse at the very least. Hopefully she wouldn't make him ugly. "_Finite_."

"What did you do? What the _fuck_ did you do to me?" Malfoy spat. "You stupid bitch, I'll have you arrested for this! You won't get away with killing a Malfoy! You'll go to prison, the both of you!"

Weasley scoffed. "I don't see any difference." Granger shot him a glare.

Malfoy seethed. "You wouldn't, would you? You stupid, worthless,-"

"You're awfully excitable today, aren't you, Malfoy?" Granger interrupted, her wand still pointing at his chest.

Eyeing the wand, Draco let out a harsh laugh. "Well, if you were just force-fed _poison_, if you were going to _die_, you'd be a bit pissed too, wouldn't you, slut? Whore? _Murderer?_"

"Aren't Malfoy's supposed to be calm, cool and collected? Even in the face of certain death? I definitely recall you sneering that at us once or twice."

Draco paused and looked from her to Weasley and back again. He saw her point- not that she had anything valuable to say- but he really should compose himself. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It shook with rage. He tried again. His muscles acted almost of their own accord, straining at his ropes and kicking his feet- but it felt good. He didn't even care that struggling made him look like a fish. He let out an incensed growl. "What did the potion do?" Draco could hardly talk his teeth were clenched so tight.

Weasley tried to smirk. It didn't work; he still looked poor. Malfoy told him so. The smirk disappeared. Much better.

Granger crouched down next to him. Oh, how Draco wished his could punch her in the face. Just once. Or maybe twenty-seven times, just in case. "Well, we've noticed that you and Harry don't have the most… emotionally open relationship. He's such a feeling-oriented person, you know,-"

"I've noticed." Malfoy sneered.

"-That he really does appreciate it when people share their thoughts and feelings with him. We think he would especially appreciate it if his…" she paused and coughed delicately, "_boyfriend_... would open up to him, you know?" She smiled winningly.

"We're not _boyfriends_, Granger, we just _fuck_." He spat the word, relishing the way Weasley flinched. "Just _fuck_, that's _all_."

Granger made a sad-puppy-dog face and asked, "But how would _he _feel if he knew you thought that? Wouldn't it make him sad?"

Malfoy scoffed. "I should hope he already knows, I haven't given him reason to think otherwise- and if he's sad that's just too fucking- no. You're not going to distract me any more. What does the poison do?"

Granger clicked her tongue annoyingly. "You still haven't figured it out, yet? I'm disappointed, I thought you were smarter…" Weasley cackled.

Twisting at his bonds, Malfoy attempted to control the rage and fear clashing inside him. It was like a battle between Filch and McGonagall over his punishment; no matter who won, he was fucked. He groaned and put his forehead to his knees, trying to control himself. The emotions could be there, they just had to stay on the inside! No Malfoy would parade about with their heart on their sleeve like some sappy Gryffindor! Draco tried breathing again, clearing his mind of the image of Weasley and Granger right in front of him, victorious. They had at last succeeded in… what? He didn't feel like he was dying… They could always have used a slow-acting poison, preferring to watch him suffer, but that kind of cruelty didn't strike him as something a Gryffindor would do…

And yet, he still did not feel at all normal. He was acting so rashly, his emotions spewing out like red and gold vomit. Wait… wait wait wait now… He looked up.

"Does it make me act like a Gryffindor?" He asked fearfully. _Dear Lord, please not that, anything but that!_

Weasley's face contorted into a moue of infuriation, but Granger surprised Draco by laughing heartily. My, what a deep voice for such a small woman. "Oh, only you would say that, wouldn't you?" She chuckled, lifting off her haunches. "In a manner of speaking, yes. What has changed since we gave you the potion?" She peered down and Draco curiously. He wondered what trick lay behind her words.

Studying her expression, Malfoy said warily, "My emotions."

"Ah!" Granger cried, making Draco and the Weasel jump. She held up a finger. "But have they actually changed, or just become more apparent?"

Draco stared at her incredulously. "Are you _kidding_ me? You gave me a potion to make me show my emotions? That's ridiculous! I can't believe this! You _did_ turn me into a sodding Gryffindor!"

Weasley clapped. Draco bared his beautifully straight teeth at the sound. "Bravo, Malfoy! Ten points to Slytherin!"

Draco struggled against the ropes in fury, wincing as his wrists smarted. Great. Just fucking great! Ropeburn was so stylish! "I swear, Granger, you won't get away with this, I'll fucking hunt you down and fuck you up so badly you'll wish you were never _born_!" He raged.

"Actually," Granger cut in, "I think we'll be just fine, Malfoy." She raised her wand. "_Obliviate_."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Harry had locked himself in a bathroom stall as far away from the Broomstick Room as he could get. His legs were shaking furiously as he tried to sit down on the toilet seat and ended up falling off. He looked up toward the ceiling, regaining breath. Harry had snuck out of the room as soon as he could be sure Malfoy was gone, and _ran_. His feet hurt and, god, his breath… It was quick and caught in his throat, he wasn't breathing properly; _'too fast too fast too fast,'_ he thought. _'Breathe. Stop shaking. Stop shaking and BREATHE.'_ He imagined the Firebolt in his hands; Malfoy's arms around him, clenching and restricting his motion. Harry bit his lip hard. His cock hurt and his whole body was quivering from head to foot. He couldn't break through the whirling vortex of emotions twisting his brain. The last time he had felt like this was when he let a girl pierce his ear when he was seven years old.Hiding again- he couldn't go out there… He couldn't let this progress, he was so fucking lost in this school now, where the fuck did all the morals go? Late for History of Magic. Okay. Okay. He stumbled out of the stall and took a few sips of lead-flavored water from the rusty sink. Looking up into his reflection, Harry was startled to see a flushed, shaken man staring back at him. Damn, he needed a haircut. Beautiful black locks obscured his vision with their succulent darkness. Shaking his hair away from his face, he gazed into his own eyes… green… Slytherin green… they would match Malfoy's tie… Malfoy's tie around his neck, Malfoy's hands wandering all over his body, Malfoy's talented mouth, whispering into his ear, making him shiver. Malfoy riding Harry's Firebolt…

Harry saw the wood, golden from polish, in his mind. He moaned loudly and fainted. Crack to the floor. His last thought swept through his mind as his face pressed itself against the cold tile. _'Malfoy would be so warm right now; Malfoy. Malfoy, what was he DOING?'_ Then the blackness consumed him.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Malfoy had locked himself in his room, sealed the curtains magically shut; muffled all sound and yelled furiously, his body throwing itself against the bed in sweat and tears. "I'm NOT GOING OUT!!" "NO ONE CAN SEE ME!" "FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU POTTER! I TOLD YOU NOT TO LEAVE!!"

But of course Potter left! That was part of the plan!

_Why_ was he so _angry?_ What was going on? All he could think of was Potter- years and years of anger and hate and lust and curiosity and humor and bloody _everything_ were in his head until it felt likely to burst from overuse. He dug his hands into his hair and his face into his pillow tried to force his emotions into their proper places, to shove them all back into the little box in the back of his mind where they belonged but _no_, they wouldn't fit anymore!

Draco checked his watch. 11:27. He'd missed an entire day of classes. Fuck. He needed to go to sleep… His eyes drooped and he wondered at the change, just a second ago he'd been the angstiest teenager in the school, and now… Now he…

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The next afternoon, a highly unwelcome voice came rasping deeply through the curtains surrounding Draco's delicious cocoon of sleep, "Draco Malfoy! Rise, you foolish boy! Your actions are inexcusable for a young _aristocrat,_" the man spat the word, "I demand that you put a stop to this ridiculous apathy of yours!"

Lifting the charms around him violently, Malfoy whipped back the curtains of his bed and glared at Snape. "I can't help it! I can't go out there!" He pulled at his hair. "Don't you see, Snape? Don't you see the problem???"

Snape stood dead straight and shocked, his eyes wide; the boy he looked at was gaunt, the eye sockets bruised deeply with tears and its body was wrapped up into a young deer shape. He wondered if the entire plague had been detained in this one child.

His sharp mouth hung open for a few seconds as the young boy moaned hopelessly, trying to throw on a silver and green night shirt over his bare chest, then he spoke, "I didn't believe McGonagall last night, but this behavior has been seen recently in another area of the castle. Would you perchance have anything to do with-" He sneered deeply, letting all his words draw out with spit, "-Harry Potter?

Malfoy opened his mouth wide and tried to stuff several socks into it so as to not let himself scream all his passion out in one gust, that nose, that Snape nose was so sharp! So huge! Shut up about Potter! The potions professor continued, reaching to pull the socks away from the distraught blond. "Potter was found knocked out cold in a boys bathroom."

Malfoy leapt off the bed, grabbed his clothes and ran.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**Okay….**

(review)

**That was a bit of a weird one.**

(review)

**Kinda short, too. You know the drill, though. You want a longer one next time?**

(review)

**Just let me know.**

(review)


End file.
